There are two ‘naughty’ words that I have encountered in conversation with teachers about teaching – one a little nostalgic, one more recent – and there is close association between them.

The first – the nostalgic one – is ‘mongrel’. There, I said it.

I started my teaching career at a ‘tough’ (but much beloved) school in Logan, south of Brisbane. In my second year as a teacher I had a composite Year 9/10 Music class of 39 students. It was arranged that I would have the support of Alan, the Deputy Principal, across these lessons to assist in managing the classroom (he was responsible for timetabling and we were pushing the growth of the subject, and perhaps felt duty-bound to support what he had created!). Alan knew nothing about music, but he sure knew about teaching, especially working with the ‘challenging characters’, some of whom were in the class. Unsurprisingly, it was a difficult class to deal with in terms of teaching and learning, physical spacing and resourcing, and behaviour management…

Alan was a firm character, both feared and deeply-admired by the students; he commanded great respect. One lesson early in the year, it was obvious I was struggling to manage the class. He stepped in front of them, instantly gaining their attention, and told them – amidst direction to get them back on task – that they were lucky to have the ‘second best music teacher in the world’ working with them (he then proclaimed to be ‘the first’!). As the students settled back into work, he approached me and told me that if I wanted to be ‘the best music teacher in the world’, that I’d need to get a “bit of mongrel in me”. He certainly had a way with humour (and humouring me).

He said, “know what you want and go for it – take charge and never let go of what you value.” To Alan, this was to be ‘mongrel’ – to make clear what it is we value, and tenacious and determined to see it through, irrespective of the challenge faced. What I had in content knowledge, Alan had exponentially in ‘teaching’ knowledge – the ‘how to do what we do’. He was a teacher who could gain the attention of anyone in the room, simultaneously feared and warm, ‘nightclub bouncer’ and your favourite grandpa rolled into one. When I was ‘losing’ the class, he’d silently mouth ‘mongrel’ from the back of the room and then wink. I’d then try to summon some ‘mongrel’, take control and direct (often despite some resistance), the class to where I felt the value was…

My second ‘naughty’ word grows from the first… and I cautiously approach this one! Over the past few days I have even approached some colleagues as to the use of this word in our profession, and these conversations pretty much revealed that, if I had to ask, then it wasn’t laden with the greatest connotations! But as I’ve used ‘mongrel’, then I’ll drop the second ‘m’-word…

‘Maverick’.

I like the word ‘maverick’ – it is the edgy version of the tired and overused ‘innovator’.

If someone were to call a musician a ‘musical maverick’, then it would be likely taken as a great compliment – it is less about being a lone dissenter, and more about taking an independent stand from your contemporaries. This is often celebrated in creative fields; however, being a ‘maverick teacher’ might be associated with being a ‘soon-to-be unemployed’ teacher! Mavericks are often non-conformist, and pursue rebellious and potentially disruptive ideas. Does education need this? In many ways, I think so – well particularly ‘mavericks’ who challenge from an informed independent stance.

Teacher and author, Phil Beadle, planted this ‘educationally-filthy’ word in my mind in his ‘How You Should Teach? Like a Maverick piece.[i] He talks of an insistence for ‘standards’ – on having the ‘controllables’ of teaching controlled and ‘boxed’ as to minimise ‘damage’ and ensure consistency of ‘product’. We can feel forced to join (or worse, join unknowingly) fellow teachers floating down our metaphorical river – the River Same – which thins out and becomes congested with ‘mainstream sameness’; or, we can ‘swim upstream’ and get perilously close to being awarded the “diminishing label of ‘maverick’: a base signifier employed by the mainstream to reduce ‘dissenting’ voices to comedy.”[ii]

Beadle uses a musical analogy to help us understand the polarised view between those ‘floating downstream’ or those ‘swimming upstream’ in the River Same. The first might see teaching as a sonata – the teacher as the conductor. The sonata is strictly-defined in terms of musical structure, with each instrument contributing as instructed when instructed by the conductor. Beadle’s alternative sees teaching as free-form, partially-improvised jazz – the teacher as a jazz drummer. In this role, the drummer offers technical and rhythmical contributions within a ‘musical chaos’ that is to be harnessed. From this, he elaborates: the conductor directs everyone to do as they’re told so that the score is realised as the composer intended. The jazz drummer wants to lock down an ever-shifting groove from which other players may launch into their own extemporisations. The conductor wants to lead so that the world becomes ordered in a specific way. The jazz drummer knows the world is chaos, but is prepared to work to sculpt that chaos into beautiful shapes.

Borrowing from Beadle, the drummer is the maverick; but also, to borrow from Alan, the drummer has to have some ‘mongrel’. Maverick and ‘mongrel’ teachers take a stand for the content of their lessons, and they engage with the art and science of teaching. They do not ‘float downstream’ in the River Same, grabbing onto the untested ‘educational flotation devices’ as others do; they swim hard to challenge ideas, forge new routes, and ultimately break away from the dulled ‘floaters’.

All of this said, no matter how hard or in what direction we swim, we will all still be in our metaphorical river – there are certain frameworks, policies and procedures that we must rightfully and dutifully follow. How, though, do you want to position yourself within? Can you swim against the current? It takes tenacity, effort, determination… and a good dose of ‘mongrel’. Is it worth the effort? Absolutely. We need mavericks to challenge the ‘mainstream’ – the bad ideas, the under-researched practices, and ignorant and ill-informed viewpoints. We need mavericks to rescue us all from being the ‘same’ teacher. We need mavericks to disrupt, question and challenge. Our profession is too important to dismiss them and their contributions.

Rather than offer any reflective prompts, I would like the ideas of ‘mongrel’ and ‘maverick’ to spark discussion on how we do what we do. Beadle’s original work and subsequent book – Rules for Mavericks: A manifesto for dissident creatives – could be a combative text, but considering our position in relation to this idea, and then articulating it, will only benefit our students – no matter which side you land on!

 

---

Image credit: iZoom.Me/Chris Pleasance

[i]  See https://www.teachwire.net/news/how-should-you-teach-like-a-maverick

[ii] I had to borrow this great line from Phil!