Cara Furman

Abstract:This paper is premised on the fact that math can be an important tool in helping people make sense of the world. Math offers a unique and particular lens, helping people to focus on a range of characteristics from shape and amount to the relationship between the general and the particular. To promote math as a tool for making sense, early childhood math instruction ought to teach it in a manner that helps children make sense of mathematical concepts.Specifically, I argue here that manipulatives are often brought into the early childhood classroom to promote "hands-on" learning without facilitating making sense. Taking a mixed-methods approach, I move between philosophical analysis to qualitative research to illustrate specific criteria promoting making sense in math education. Building primarily on the philosophy of Maurice Merleau-Ponty, I first define what I mean by "making sense." John Dewey's writing about math education and experience provides a framework for making sense with manipulatives. I then focus on how pre-service teachers can teach math to young children in a manner that makes sense. I also share how I changed my instruction using criteria established by early childhood math educators Angela Giglio Andrews and Paul R. Trafton. I conclude by arguing that a math education that makes sense is both a democratic right and necessity.

This article tells the story of a teacher and a teacher educator as they grappled, together and apart, with the same question: What does it mean to work well with families as elementary school teachers? Specifically, it interrogates what it means to partner with families. To do so they investigate how partnering with families has led to connections and disconnections when facing the particulars of daily work in an elementary school.

ABSTRACT What does it mean for a teacher to welcome all children? This article explores this question by first documenting my own difficulty as an elementary school classroom teacher to welcome one particular child who had recently immigrated from a refugee camp. I explain how the theory of hospitality both addresses the failures of my own teaching and provides a framework for better instructional practices I drew upon with subsequent students. Specifically, I highlight three key features of hospitality: first, how a teacher, as host, can provide a welcome for every student; second, the ways a teacher might welcome students by making space for them to both express themselves and learn about the pre-existing culture of the school; and, third, the responsibility of the teacher to thoroughly welcome without knowing the student. Drawing on philosophy, the example from my teaching, and the works of other teacher researchers, the article showcases how inclusive education pivots on the ability to welcome the student who is unfamiliar to the teacher.

ABSTRACT What does it mean for curriculum to be inclusive? This paper builds upon assertions that standardised, pre-determined curriculum marginalises students. This is especially harmful for students labelled with disabilities. I argue for an alternative approach to curriculum that is more fluid and inclusive than the traditional model. Describing this approach, I call on the image of a conversation: a discourse influenced by everyone, informal, and easily responsive to constant redirection. Where this model is applicable to all students, curriculum as conversation is especially needed for students labelled with disabilities. In the first part of this paper, I provide an argument for why inclusive curriculum is beneficial for everyone and flesh out the notion of conversation. In the second half, I look at how teachers in the long-term teacher inquiry group, the Brookline Teacher Research Seminar (BTRS) successfully treated curriculum as a conversation to include their students. I demonstrate how the writings of these teachers offer an extremely helpful opus of counter-narratives on inclusive conversational curricula.

Much has been written about the importance of giving personal attention to children’s written work. The focus has been on the effect of this feedback on the writing and on the child. Drawing on the philosophical discourse of the care of the self, I argue that the ways in which a teacher gives feedback informs the development of the teacher. Turning to the Descriptive Review of Work, I argue that engaging in this practice regularly helps a teacher to see his or her students more inclusively and, in turn, better support their writing.

Abstract Teaching is a complex task that requires that the teacher be skilled at responding effectively and ethically to unexpected situations. Many have linked a teacher’s facility in the classroom to Aristotle’s concept of phronesis, translated in this paper as practical wisdom. While the relationship between practical wisdom and teaching has gotten attention, more concrete ways of cultivating practical wisdom in teachers is needed. In this paper, I highlight how a particular practice, descriptive review, can help teachers develop practical wisdom.

ABSTRACT This paper investigates how principals can be supported in their work as teacher leaders. My focus is on how principals can help teachers respond ethically to classroom challenges. I argue that in aiding teachers, school leaders themselves need support and ongoing development. I turn to the care of the self to conceptually explore ethical self-cultivation. I then argue that a practice, Descriptive Inquiry, serves as a way for principals to care for themselves. To make this argument, I draw on a qualitative study of four long-term elementary school principals.

Documentation and Inquiry in the Early Childhood Classroom: Research Stories from Urban Centers and Schools is a celebration of teacher intelligence and professional acumen. In bringing together the narratives of a plethora of early childhood educators from a broad range of settings, Kroll and Meier showcase what is possible when early childhood educators research and write about their own classrooms. In a climate where teachers are increasingly told what to do and how to do it, the book makes a strong and much needed statement about the capability of teachers. And in a society that gives little respect to teachers who work with the youngest children, Kroll and Meier demonstrate how deserving these educators are of the highest regard. Finally, as more policy is focused on early childhood education, Kroll and Meier's advocacy on behalf of holistic and humanistic approaches to children and their teachers is valuable. The editors and practitioners draw their inspiration from a tradition of teacher inquiry largely associated with primary and secondary teachers and early childhood teaching in Reggio Emilia, Italy. In their writing on teacher inquiry, Kroll and Meier achieve three significant feats. The first is to add new life to a marginalized conversation about teacher inquiry. While there are certainly teachers still engaged in inquiry, the movement, as documented by Kroll and Meier, has largely been pushed aside and silenced as teachers are pressured to follow directives and assess children through standardized metrics. The second is that Kroll and Meier make an important addition to the conversation: the work and voices of U.S. early childhood educators. The third is the centrality of school‑based inquiry in the book. Much previous writing on teacher inquiry focuses on groups housed outside of the school. This is important work, but can mean that a teacher may find herself returning to an unsupportive daily environment. In contrast, nearly all of Kroll and Meier's case studies were school‑wide initiatives. The book is divided into four sections: school wide‑wide inquiry, children and teachers conducting inquiry together, teaching teachers about documentation and inquiry assessments, and developing leadership through inquiry. Within these themes, each chapter zooms into a particular setting featuring the narratives of teachers from 12 different settings in the Bay Area. These include more commonly discussed programs such as public schools and head start programs, but also a parent cooperative, a migrant and seasonal head start program, and a preschool in a museum. This captures the range of settings in which early childhood educators and children find themselves. A commonality among the settings is a focus on those that served low‑income minority children and, in many cases, those learning English. In keeping a narrow regional focus, the book can both transport the reader while remaining widely resonate. As readers practicing in rural Maine, we were able to learn about a different context while also reflecting on our own. Each narrative took an asset‑oriented view of children and a dominant refrain was that children can teach us much about the world. For example, in Las Americas Early Education School, a multi‑age preschool with mainstreamed special education students, educators had to learn how to listen to children. This careful listening allowed the teachers to break down their own preconceived notion that they were the primary source of information as they came to see the children as holders of knowledge. Another theme was the power of planning curriculum with and alongside children. In many cases, the curriculum was culturally responsive, several months long, and intellectually rich and challenging. For example, in the bilingual Mission Head Start Valencia Garden, the teachers developed an investigation of fish based initially on one child who was struggling with transitions and his positive response to the song " Slippery Fish. " Around this topic, the teachers carefully assembled a wealth of materials and manipulatives. In doing so, they drew in the rest of the children. The teachers kept the inquiry moving and rich by asking questions and documenting children's knowledge. This specific journey allowed for parents and the public to join as well: " Not only were families deeply engaged in the inquiry process, they had developed effective skills and strategies for facilitating their children's inquiry outside of school " (p. 69). Reflecting the power of diversity, the differently voiced narratives draw the reader in and connect smoothly with one another, allowing the book to flow effortlessly. The visuals and the use of specific examples give the reader a window into how the children conversed, inquired, and learned from the inquiries.

ABSTRACT Early childhood writing curriculums typically focus on skills and encouraging interest. What children are asked to write is rarely closely examined. Through a self-study of my first and second grade classroom, in this paper I look at the implications of genre when teaching young children. I first identify some of the problems of a popular personal narrative curriculum and then showcase the ways that fiction can be more empowering for my students.

Every year that I have taught, at least one student resists the structures andcustoms of my classroom. Responding means radically reorganizing the ways inwhich learning is done and, in doing so, how I see the world. In my first year teachingfirst and second grade in a New York City public school, Flora’s struggles withwriting baffled me. Flora had no problem with the typical barriers: she could spell,handwriting came easily, sitting still and focusing posed no challenges, and shespoke with agility. Yet, Flora would not write.The citywide curriculum was based almost exclusively on memoir. I wouldmodel elements of a story drawn from my life and the children were supposed tofollow my format but fill in their own quotidian details. Where I might write abouteating cheerios for breakfast, they could write about eating peanut butter and jellyfor lunch. As a reader and writer, I found the curriculum dull and forced. Thechildren’s stories were mostly lackluster. Though I loosened up the curr...

During my first year of teaching, Lily was a confident and verbal first grader in my first and second grade class. She wrote a story about a dragon the first week of school and easily sounded out every word. She held her own with the older children in the class. The trouble began when I administered the first “spelling” assessment of the year. I didn’t call it an assessment. I didn’t call it anything, for that matter. I told the kids I was going to go over their spelling and, unlike with most of our activities, I wanted them to work independently. I told them that I only wanted to see how they were doing and they didn’t have to worry. I read the words as kindly as possible. I tried not to be too scary when I asked kids to move to a separate desk if they seemed to be looking on with someone else. Midway through the assessment, Lily put her head down and started to sob. I was new. It was my first formal assessment. I had no idea what to do. I told everyone to disregard Lily. I told he...

Background/Context This paper is a part of the special issue “Reimagining Research and Practice at the Crossroads of Philosophy, Teaching, and Teacher Education.” We center what follows on a practice used in undergraduate methods courses that we have termed Interruptions. Interruptions are a form of inter-class visitation in which faculty plan together, visit one another's classes, and publicly interrupt the teaching of the other with a variety of both pre-planned and spontaneous questions relating to the day's lesson. Research Design We weave together a conceptual analysis and qualitative research, drawing from a larger qualitative study conducted in one early childhood and one elementary undergraduate math methods course in Spring 2016. For the study, we co-planned eight lessons together (four in each course), and observed one another teach each of those lessons, while taking notes and purposely interrupting instruction. We collected survey data from students at the end of...

ABSTRACT In response to the abundance of parenting literature and a contemporary emphasis on expertise, recent scholars have suggested that how we parent should be determined by values and a family’s particular needs, a combination often referred to as practical wisdom. In this article, I build on previous calls for an ethical approach to being a parent. I argue that being able to share and cultivate one’s unique personality and have one’s aptitudes and interests recognized is a key condition of living well and that parents play an important role in helping their children know and realize their gifts. I put forth an exercise for attending to children, the descriptive review of the child. In doing so, I first describe this practice, illustrate it, and then explain how it can help one live well as a parent.

In the spring of 2011, Hillary1 was a student in Cara’s yearlong masters-level course in a teacher preparation program. This was one of the only class in the programthat addressed working with families, albeit very minimally. On one particular day, Cara brought in samples of letters she wrote to families. Understanding the judgment that new teachers often impart on families and anxious to convey a lesson she had learned herself as a first-year teacher, Cara made the claim: “You may love your students and you may find their families frustrating. This can lead to some misconceptions. At the end of the day, families love their children. They don’t always love them in the ways you would see best. They may not always love them in ways that keep the child physically and emotionally safe. But they do love their children, and you are not your students’ family. That is something important to remember.” The semester ended. Despite imploring her class to remember, Cara temporarily forgot her o...

It is an educational truism that reflection helps teachers to be more effective and ethical. Building on John Dewey’s assertion that we learn by doing and reflecting, and Hannah Arendt’s that reflection is strengthened through discourse among peers, I argue that a valuable role for teacher educators is to be interlocutors with whom teachers can reflect. Adding to previous scholarship that positions philosophers of education as ideal interlocutors, I focus on the nature of the relationship between teachers and philosophers of education. Mirroring the format of the Socratic dialogues, I include three dialogues to explore how teachers and philosophers of education might reflect together. The first dialogue is the transcription of an interview about reflection and teaching between a former elementary school teacher colleague and me (then a doctoral student in philosophy of education). The second is a written dialogue that brings the interview into communication with Plato and Arendt to ...

This paper is premised on the fact that math can be an important tool in helping people make sense of the world. Math offers a unique and particular lens, helping people to focus on a range of characteristics from shape and amount to the relationship between the general and the particular. To promote math as a tool for making sense, early childhood math instruction ought to teach it in a manner that helps children make sense of mathematical concepts. Specifically, I argue here that manipulatives are often brought into the early childhood classroom to promote “hands-on” learning without facilitating making sense. Taking a mixed-methods approach, I move between philosophical analysis to qualitative research to illustrate specific criteria promoting making sense in math education. Building primarily on the philosophy of Maurice Merleau-Ponty, I first define what I mean by “making sense.” John Dewey’s writing about math education and experience provides a framework for making sense with...

In the spring of 2011, Hillary1 was a student in Cara’s yearlong masters-level
course in a teacher preparation program. This was one of the only class in the
programthat addressed working with families, albeit very minimally. On one
particular day, Cara brought in samples of letters she wrote to families. Understanding
the judgment that new teachers often impart on families and
anxious to convey a lesson she had learned herself as a first-year teacher, Cara
made the claim: “You may love your students and you may find their families
frustrating. This can lead to some misconceptions. At the end of the day,
families love their children. They don’t always love them in the ways you would
see best. They may not always love them in ways that keep the child physically and emotionally safe. But they do love their children, and you are not your students’ family. That is something important to remember.” The semester ended. Despite imploring her class to remember, Cara temporarily forgot her own comment. A year later, though, Hillary told Cara that this admonishment was revealing and important for her. In hearing this, Cara reconsidered her claims.Were these statements uttered in the heat of the moment? Did she still believe them?

What does it mean for a teacher to welcome all children? This article explores this question by first documenting my own difficulty as an elementary school classroom teacher to welcome one particular child who had recently immigrated from a refugee camp. I explain how the theory of hospitality both addresses the failures of my own teaching and provides a framework for better instructional practices I drew upon with subsequent students. Specifically, I highlight three key features of hospitality: first, how a teacher, as host, can provide a welcome for every student; second, the ways a teacher might welcome students by making space for them to both express themselves and learn about the pre-existing culture of the school; and, third, the responsibility of the teacher to thoroughly welcome without knowing the student. Drawing on philosophy, the example from my teaching, and the works of other teacher researchers, the article showcases how inclusive education pivots on the ability to welcome the student who is unfamiliar to the teacher.

Documentation and Inquiry in the Early Childhood Classroom: Research Stories from Urban Centers and Schools is a celebration of teacher intelligence and professional acumen. In bringing together the narratives of a plethora of early childhood educators from a broad range of settings, Kroll and Meier showcase what is possible when early childhood educators research and write about their own classrooms. In a climate where teachers are increasingly told what to do and how to do it, the book makes a strong and much needed statement about the capability of teachers. And in a society that gives little respect to teachers who work with the youngest children, Kroll and Meier demonstrate how deserving these educators are of the highest regard. Finally, as more policy is focused on early childhood education, Kroll and Meier's advocacy on behalf of holistic and humanistic approaches to children and their teachers is valuable. The editors and practitioners draw their inspiration from a tradition of teacher inquiry largely associated with primary and secondary teachers and early childhood teaching in Reggio Emilia, Italy. In their writing on teacher inquiry, Kroll and Meier achieve three significant feats. The first is to add new life to a marginalized conversation about teacher inquiry. While there are certainly teachers still engaged in inquiry, the movement, as documented by Kroll and Meier, has largely been pushed aside and silenced as teachers are pressured to follow directives and assess children through standardized metrics. The second is that Kroll and Meier make an important addition to the conversation: the work and voices of U.S. early childhood educators. The third is the centrality of school‑based inquiry in the book. Much previous writing on teacher inquiry focuses on groups housed outside of the school. This is important work, but can mean that a teacher may find herself returning to an unsupportive daily environment. In contrast, nearly all of Kroll and Meier's case studies were school‑wide initiatives. The book is divided into four sections: school wide‑wide inquiry, children and teachers conducting inquiry together, teaching teachers about documentation and inquiry assessments, and developing leadership through inquiry. Within these themes, each chapter zooms into a particular setting featuring the narratives of teachers from 12 different settings in the Bay Area. These include more commonly discussed programs such as public schools and head start programs, but also a parent cooperative, a migrant and seasonal head start program, and a preschool in a museum. This captures the range of settings in which early childhood educators and children find themselves. A commonality among the settings is a focus on those that served low‑income minority children and, in many cases, those learning English. In keeping a narrow regional focus, the book can both transport the reader while remaining widely resonate. As readers practicing in rural Maine, we were able to learn about a different context while also reflecting on our own. Each narrative took an asset‑oriented view of children and a dominant refrain was that children can teach us much about the world. For example, in Las Americas Early Education School, a multi‑age preschool with mainstreamed special education students, educators had to learn how to listen to children. This careful listening allowed the teachers to break down their own preconceived notion that they were the primary source of information as they came to see the children as holders of knowledge. Another theme was the power of planning curriculum with and alongside children. In many cases, the curriculum was culturally responsive, several months long, and intellectually rich and challenging. For example, in the bilingual Mission Head Start Valencia Garden, the teachers developed an investigation of fish based initially on one child who was struggling with transitions and his positive response to the song " Slippery Fish. " Around this topic, the teachers carefully assembled a wealth of materials and manipulatives. In doing so, they drew in the rest of the children. The teachers kept the inquiry moving and rich by asking questions and documenting children's knowledge. This specific journey allowed for parents and the public to join as well: " Not only were families deeply engaged in the inquiry process, they had developed effective skills and strategies for facilitating their children's inquiry outside of school " (p. 69). Reflecting the power of diversity, the differently voiced narratives draw the reader in and connect smoothly with one another, allowing the book to flow effortlessly. The visuals and the use of specific examples give the reader a window into how the children conversed, inquired, and learned from the inquiries.

What does it mean to teach for human dignity? How does one do so? This practical book shows how the leaders at four urban public schools used a process called Descriptive Inquiry to create democratic schools that promote and protect human dignity. The authors argue that teachers must attend to who a child is and find a way to create classrooms that allow everyone to feel safe and express ideas. Responding to the perennial question of how to cultivate teachers, they offer an approach that attends to both ethical development and instructional methods. They also provide a way forward for school leaders seeking to listen to, and provide guidance for, their staff. At its core, Descriptive Inquiry in Teacher Practice champions a commitment to schools as places in which children, teachers, and leaders can learn how to live and work well together.