Introduction
Search any university library card catalog and you will find books about the “art of teaching” almost any subject from mathematics to horseback riding. That teaching is an art seems to be a commonly held notion. And, if teaching is an art, then teachers are artists, creators rather than technicians, who design learning experiences for their students that inform and engage, demanding an intellectual and personal response from their students. These highly effective teachers seem to move beyond content knowledge and skillful pedagogy, developing a collaborative, creative relationship with their students: “Outstanding teachers engage youngsters, interact with them, draw energy and direction from them, and find ways to give them reason to follow along. This is the difficult and serious work of teaching” (Ayers, p. 28). These “outstanding teachers” sound very similar to Mary Oliver’s poet whose poems are written “to give the reader an arrangement of words in which an experience or insight waited to be felt through, and I mean in an individual and personal way. Only thus could the poem make an indelible mark upon the readers. Only thus could the poem become an abiding part of the reader’s own life. A reader would enter the poem–let us assume with a supple will and a whole heart–and would emerge a little different, forever, from what he or she had been before” (Oliver, pp. 108-109).
Like the poet, the artistic teacher arranges words, as well as spaces and experiences. We can all remember that certain teacher who seemed to be special, different from all the rest, who pulled us in and helped us not just learn content and skills but also to grow and change and move towards our potential. These teachers practiced art in its broadest sense: “to signify engaging, complex, and expressive human activity” (Flinders, 1989, p. 17). And this broad sense is what “allows us to speak of a beautiful lesson or of a well-orchestrated class discussion” (Flinder, 1989, p. 17).
Defining this art of teaching, however, can be elusive. It is “never far from mystery” (Ayers, p. 26), a kind of almost alchemical combination of knowledge, skills, and dispositions. According to Flinders, it is less well understood than more technical aspects of teaching, but it seems to be the quality that separates teachers from trainers. Writers have tried to define this elusive art, often by describing the characteristics of artistic teachers through telling their stories. By examining the literature and listening to the narratives, we can come to at least a preliminary understanding of this art called teaching, an understanding that can help educators and those who educate them, get at the heart of what it means to be a teacher.
Accreditation, Regulation, and the Art of Teaching
The stories of artistic teachers can help flesh out the policy-driven definitions of effective teachers provided by both government and accreditation agencies. The National Council for the Accreditation of Teacher Education (NCATE) suggests that teacher preparation programs should produce candidates who “know and demonstrate the content, pedagogical, and professional knowledge, skills, and dispositions necessary to help all students learn.” No Child Left Behind, the sweeping school reform mandate that is currently in place, requires schools to have highly qualified teachers: “To be deemed highly qualified, teachers must have: 1) a bachelor’s degree, 2) full state certification or licensure, and 3) prove that they know each subject they teach.” This legalistic, central-office definition does nothing to get at what makes a teacher successful or effective, ignoring the complexity and artistic aspects of teaching, that mix of knowledge, skills and dispositions that can not be mandated or developed in a half-day workshop (Flinders, p. 19).
For those who believe that the art of teaching subsumes both policy and practice, definitions like those provided by No Child Left Behind are worrisome. Teaching is reduced to a set of rules with teachers takin gon the role of technicians: “What we call education is usually no more than training. We are so busy operating schools that we have lost sight of learning” (Ayers, p. 36). Others describe teachers reading from scripts designed to be “teacher proof” (Starnes). Anderson discusses the movement towards “mechanical pedagogy” (2002, p. 33) while Palmer worries about the effects of “methodological reductionism” (2003, p. 5) on the diversity of teachers and learners. Flinders, finally, believes that a proper understanding of teacher professionalism must include more than the “commonsense image of professionalism” that focuses on careere development and expert knowledge: “In listening to teachers talk about their work and in observing their teaching day after day, I soon realized that this image did not match their daily routines and their concerns. This image of professionalism failed to capture the artistry that these teachers often spoke of and demonstrated as central to their work” (2002, p, 17).