Reflections on the Invitational Summer Institute

Reflections on the Invitational Summer Institute

by PhilWP Teacher Consultants

I attended the PhilWP Summer Institute in 1987, in its second year. At the time, I had been teaching for nine years, but, in truth, I was thoroughly discouraged. I had many more questions than answers and did not find a place in the School District to raise these questions in a thoughtful, supportive environment. Because I realized that I either had to change my teaching or leave, I spent that summer first in a PATHS/PRISM institute learning about the US Constitution and developing curriculum (I was, at that time, teaching Social Studies in a high school special education classroom) and then at PhilWP.

...I realized that I either had to

change my teaching or leave...

My teaching and my career were fundamentally changed by this experience at the Invitational Summer Institute. I became an English teacher once positions opened up. Later, I spent a few years working with the Philadelphia Schools Collaborative to support teachers in comprehensive high schools as they developed small learning communities. In 1998, I completed my doctorate after being a PhilWP Scholar and starting the program in 1991. From 2005 - 2011 I was the director of a teacher education program at Penn GSE (GSE/TFA Urban Teacher Program). Currently, I am the director of alumni programs for the Knowles Science Teaching Foundation (kstf.org).

That's what happened to my career, but more importantly, I found a way to make teaching the intellectually rich and engaging profession that I was seeking. Through the leadership of Susan Lytle, Bob Fecho, Judy Buchanan, and wonderful teachers in that summer institute, and later Marsha Pincus, I discovered the ways in which literacy and writing, listening to and honoring students' voices, careful examinations of students' work, and collaborative relationships with other teachers could support student learning. After that summer my students wrote and wrote: journals, plays, essays, stories, newspapers, reviews, and many drafts - these are only a few of the many ways that writing became a part of my classroom. It was that summer that I first began to understand the connections among reading, writing, and learning.

--Dina Portnoy, 1986 Invitational Summer Institute

PhilWP has been one of the most rewarding life experiences to date. The topics discussed during the three-week long institute spoke to inquiries and challenges I have pondered for much of my life. Being in a room with a wealth of diversity in background and thought, I was enlightened by many of the truths that came forth regarding teaching, society, and personal development.

...feeling, thinking, and searching...

I can say that I left PhilWP a new person with a sense of purpose, a charted direction, and a mission to replicate the change and empowerment that was present in what felt like a sacred place for educators. Through PhilWP, I have encountered lifelong friendships and connections with people who are a reflection of me, and before the experience I would have not been aware that they were also here--feeling, thinking, and searching.

--Shannon Stanford, 2011 Invitational Summer Institute

It has been said that the days last forever, but the years fly by. Perhaps. But warm memories of my Summer Institute in ’97 remain vivid in my mind. In particular, I recall a PhilWP activity on a humid afternoon nearly 15 Augusts ago that, to this day, remains a powerful reminder of the lifelong, indelible impressions—both positive and negative—we teachers can leave.

I was a classroom teacher, then. I still am. I was married to, and in love with, my true love, Jackie, then. And I still am. But aside from these, my life today bears little resemblance to my world a decade and a half ago.

It has been said that the days last forever,

but the years fly by.

I’m not talking about the larger world. You know, the one that now features social-media, a single European currency, an explosion of personal technology, and “Post-9-11” as part of our lexicon. I’m talking about my own little world.

Generous speckles of grey have replaced the sun-induced blonde highlights on my head. Gone is my 1995 two-seat Miata (I was so cool, then!), replaced by two cars whose crash-safety rating means more to me than their appearance. I struggled to give up my well-deserved summer break back then. Now, I feel as though I have forgotten to be somewhere when I find myself with an hour to sit and enjoy coffee in the late afternoon.

I now exist in a world in which the father I loved so dearly for so long has been deceased nearly 10 years. But it is also world in which I have two daughters, who remind me every day that our capacity to love as a parent is as instinctive as breathing and as powerful as any force known to humankind.

And yet through this tapestry of changes in our world and my life, one particular Summer Institute—a wonderful stew that appeared to combine the best of professional development and group therapy--remains with at-this-moment clarity.

Our wonderful facilitators (Geoffrey, Caltropia, Michelle, and Mickey) placed a an empty chair in the center of the room. With great brevity, we were welcome to address a teacher we had in our lives. Naïve that I was, I expected the generic. “Hi, Mr. Scott! Remember me?” Instead, I witnessed the suppressed, raw emotion that we often pay small fortunes to have psychotherapists extract from us.

There were those in our group who thanked a particular teacher for being there when no one else was. They spoke adoringly, and with heartfelt appreciation, for giving of their time and for believing.

Then there were the other sentiments.

A few spoke with such rage, such hatred at the teacher they could see in that empty chair. The scolded them for being so hurtful, so cold, so uncaring.

That afternoon, that room at 3700 Walnut Street housed far more than a couple dozen Summer Institute fellows. In that first-floor room was the collective experience of a couple centuries worth of the memories we hold within us, acted on by those who were our teachers.

Many days in my classroom seem to last forever. But as the years have flown by, what I discovered about the power of educators remains unforgettable.

--Matthew Mandel, 1997 Invitational Summer Institute