Learning
Outside of the Classroom: An Introspective Look
I could have indicated a classroom, a desk, or perhaps a pile of textbooks if
you had asked me years ago where learning takes place. I saw education as
consisting of pupils taking notes, a teacher using a whiteboard, and orderly
rows of chairs. However, as I've gotten older and more experienced, I've come
to understand that genuine learning frequently occurs in life's muck. during
times when there was no official lesson plan.
I didn't
start drawing links between these life experiences and deeper learning theories
until I started studying educational psychology. Names like Piaget, Vygotsky,
and Bruner suddenly became more than just figures from my books; they were
voices I had heard before on my own path. My real experience was given meaning
by their ideologies. As it happens, learning is more than just consuming
knowledge while sitting motionless. It's about building understanding,
frequently via self-discovery, support, challenge, and struggle.
“Let me try
it myself,” said Jean Piaget.
Every time I consider how I learnt to code, I am reminded of Piaget's theory
that learning occurs through interaction with the outside world. I never
learned how to fix a faulty program at two in the morning in any lesson. It
took a lot of frustration, trial and error, Google, and me. But it was because
of my perseverance—debugging the same error for hours on end—that I began to
comprehend the inner workings of code. I wasn't merely learning syntax by
heart. I was creating mental models.
When I
consider how children learn best, I notice the same phenomenon. A child will
attempt to solve a math problem if you give it to them. When you give them a
puzzle, they will begin to explore. We are "little scientists" at
every age, and Piaget was correct. By doing, failing, and trying again, we make
meaning of the world.
"I
couldn't have done it alone," said Lev Vygotsky.
Vygotsky reminded me of the importance of community, while Piaget demonstrated
the strength of individual inquiry. I became aware of how frequently I've been
dragged forward by the assistance of others when he proposed the concept of the
Zone of Proximal Development.
In college, I recall having trouble with numbers. It was similar to learning a
new language. However, everything finally made sense after a friend gave an
explanation in their own words one day, illustrating probability with pizza
slices. It was more than just goodwill. Scaffolding was used there.
Since I
frequently tutor people, I now make an effort to be that scaffold as
well—someone who goes beside, not in front of. I learned from Vygotsky that
learning is not just about what you can accomplish on your own, but also about
what is made possible when someone has enough faith in you to mentor you.
"Let Me
Find It," said Jerome Bruner.
When I started making my own lessons, Bruner's thesis struck me. I discovered
that simply explaining things to pupils doesn't truly help them understand
them. They must find them. Learning comes to life when students connect the
dots on their own and experience that "Aha!" moment.
Rather than
merely watching a slideshow about user interfaces, I once challenged a group of
students to create their own mobile apps. They faltered. They posed inquiries.
They looked about. They had a far deeper grasp by the end, though, not because
I taught them everything, but rather because I allowed them to make their own
discoveries.
Additionally, Bruner's spiral curriculum altered my perspective on educational
scheduling. Presenting a concept before pupils are "ready" is
acceptable. It will cling more deeply if we go back to it later with fresh
insight and context.
Concluding
remarks
When I think back on my own path, I now perceive education as a convoluted
process with many detours, halt, and unanticipated mentors. I learned the value
of practical experience from Piaget. I was reminded by Vygotsky that learning
occurs more effectively in groups. Bruner also demonstrated to me the wonder of
learning on our own.
These
theories are not just scholarly. They are useful. They permeate my questioning,
problem-solving, helping others, and failure-reflection processes. They have
shown me that the most effective educators foster an atmosphere where curiosity
flourishes rather than only imparting knowledge.
A bad cake recipe, a coding challenge, or a meaningful discussion with a buddy
can all teach you something. And instructing? It's more than just a job. It's a
means of assisting people in giving their surroundings significance.
That's what education is all about, in my opinion.
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