When pressed for my own definition of curriculum in curriculum classes, I often resort to “the shared lived experience” and then go into animated elaborations from Dewey, Van Manen, etc. I argue that we need to see curriculum as something much bigger and much more complex than what a teacher has officially written down in a lesson plan book or what a company has outlined within a reform model. In many ways, this “definition” is a default response to something exciting and complex – something that should, by its very nature, defy simple defining.
This week I encountered a very real lived experience with Audrey that brought this image home. I had to go to campus to sign a letter. Audrey and I took the train with the intention of running in, taking care of the task, and then quickly returning home. It was one of those days when the “to do” list would win out over more deliberate learning opportunities – or at least that is what I thought at the time.
On the way home on the train a gentleman stood near us. By the nature of his smell and appearance, it was pretty clear that he was homeless. As soon as the train left the Five Points platform, the man walked to the center of the aisle right in front of us and began his speech: “I was just released from Grady. Somebody hit me over the head last night. I was at Grady and somebody stole all my money. They took my wallet and my money. I’m not asking for money. I just need food. Does anyone have anything I could eat?” After a brief silence a woman sitting near us held out the take-out container that held the remains of her lunch. “Here. You can have this,” She said. Sincerely grateful, the man took the container, walked back to the corner, and quickly ate its contents.
Audrey was wide-eyed throughout the experience. Then the questions followed. “What happened to that man?” “Why is he homeless?” “Why did someone hit him?” For the remainder of the trip home we talked about people who are homeless, hungry, and hurting. I reminded her that the nights her dad leaves to go to the freeze shelter at church he is going to help people like that man – people who need a place to sleep when it gets so cold. We talked about how the food we sometimes bring to church goes to help feed others who are hungry. We also talked about how sad we were that we weren’t prepared to help this man on the train. As we continued our way home from the train, we talked about putting together bags of food or food coupons to help others when we travel on the train or walk downtown.
Throughout the experience I was kicking myself. I have planned for some time to have those “bags” of crackers, coupons, or something to give out when I encounter homeless around campus. Here was a chance to “show” Audrey a way to be compassionate to the marginalized, and I was unprepared. I felt as if I’d let her down. Since that experience I’ve shifted my focus from the “experience” to consider the other part of that default definition I often give: lived. Together Audrey and I experienced a lived moment of disappointment in ourselves- of recognition that there was more that we could do, and a feeling of sadness that we weren’t prepared to help someone in need. We ended the experience with a new determination to be prepared next time. Since then she has recalled the experience a number of times – telling her dad and her sister about it, considering levels of poverty and what it means to not have a home. She has since learned through discussion that not all homeless are men and not all homeless are old – even children can be hungry and homeless. She has also stopped asking to go and get “treats” every time we go out. Granted, this hasn’t’ stopped completely, but I think she stops and thinks about that man and how he needed basic food – not treats.
So, perhaps that brief encounter on the train did not instantly turn into an educative experience as I had always imagined. It wasn’t an opportunity for me to whip out some pre-determined homeless support packet to demonstrate what a socially concerned person SHOULD do. Instead, I think it was a chance for Audrey and I to live together in our wishes and our fallibility – to encounter an opportunity where we saw ways in which we could be better for others. After all, if curriculum is the “shared lived experience,” then we need to be as mindful of the living as we are of the experience itself.
