#pedagogy
This is not a classroom.
But we are learning.
Not a lesson plan.
But a lesson lived.
Not a curriculum.
But a crisis.
And still—this is pedagogy.
Because something is always teaching us.
Power.
Silence.
Grief.
Resistance.
This is the Pedagogy of All—
where every subject is also student,
and every student is also suspect,
and every suspect is also story.
We do not enter this space as experts.
We enter as echoes.
As contradictions.
As half-formed questions
looking not for medals,
but for mirrors.
Here, the oppressed are not romanticized,
and the oppressors are not erased.
Here, we sit in the discomfort
of knowing we are both—
sometimes in the same breath.
In the Pedagogy of All,
we don’t pass exams.
We pass judgment.
On ourselves.
On our systems.
On the stories we’ve inherited
and the silence we’ve curated.
We do not teach from podiums.
We teach from wounds.
From the trembling hand that holds a passport.
From the cracked voice that still says, “peace be upon you.”
Our classroom is a border.
A protest.
A detention centre.
A refugee camp.
A sidewalk memorial.
A kitchen table.
Our texts are not neutral.
They are redacted.
Rewritten.
Resisted.
They bleed.
And if you listen closely,
you’ll hear Paulo Freire whisper:
“If the structure does not permit dialogue…”
“…the structure must be changed.”
So come.
With your broken grammar.
With your fractured maps.
With your complicity.
With your confession.
There is no moral exemption here.
No opt-out clause from history.
No syllabus that does not implicate.
This is the Pedagogy of All—
Where learning is unlearning.
Where knowledge is relational.
Where ethics is not abstract—
but embodied.
We will not get a certificate.
We will not get closure.
But if we get it right,
We may walk away with a conscience
we can all live with.
Nov 4, 2025
Nov 4, 2025 at 12:48 PM UTC
A captured thought thrashes inside my chest,
As the droning teacher drills out his behest.
His lecture lulls us with impervious haze,
As the wandering pupils observe in a daze.
My captive prisoner rages to reach outside,
But I fail to arise, I'm shut up, tongue-tied.
The captain now slowly sails the ship away
Completely unaware of the treasure left astray.
Dec 11, 2021
Dec 11, 2021 at 6:15 PM UTC
I found how infrequently some points or lines could align with a hyperplane.
It sounds way harder than it was, probably because I used to not know the succession of steps to learn about R^n and the hyperplane.
They are easy to grasp but it used to not be as easy as 1,2,3.
But it really is a simple plane in n-1 dimensions of R^n.
Yet when I first encountered the word some years ago, it was quite mesmerizing.
I think math will always be mesmerizing except if I've encountered it in pedagogy.
With this understanding, I know that all math is stepwise succession within its branch.
But somehow this leaves things undone, probably because I can't cheat true and tried pedagogy.
That's what I really want to do.
Mar 4, 2021
Mar 4, 2021 at 11:13 PM UTC
To Friday five I apologise,
to my profession and charges
I weaken and give mummers tales,
avoid holes of attention
that tired souls give in to
I love my responsibilities hotly
but there are ends to means,
so weekly turns have starts
which Mondays begin
Nov 15, 2020
Nov 15, 2020 at 7:46 AM UTC
Do it for the love of thee,
The fatigue and wisdom of teaching,
Vest it to them and let their minds be free.
Hand it through pedagogy,
Though exhausted of standing and talking,
Do it for the love of thee.
Pass the values forgotten by society,
The pearls and artifacts impossible of seeing,
Vest it to them and let their minds be free.
Praise them for practicing courtesy,
But scold until they are breaking,
Do it for the love of thee,
For they should learn that life is tricky,
The truth that people are forever coming and going,
Vest it to them and let their minds be free.
Teach to continue the legacy,
For the future needs more heavy crafting,
Do it for the love of thee,
Vest it to them and let their minds be free.
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 9:23 PM UTC
no one laughs the dead houses
line the streets i
never had anything
before the ritz and lsd
funnelled into shopping malls
hypnagogic life
taught whither wither
a dying world.
Oct 6, 2017
Oct 6, 2017 at 7:13 PM UTC
I have been a therapist, and
I've been therapied
The brightest and the best
Have had a go at me
It hurt like hell, I tried to hide,
I wouldn't run away
The truth would out, for all to see,
All to see, but me
I learned to face my fear,
Be more honest, and more brave
I played a silly game
You see there was no face to save
We're mistaken and mislead
Down the twisted garden path
With the weather and the leather
To the bitter Grapes of Wrath
From the poisoned pedagogy
We recover one fine day
Our long suffering Tsunami
Will finish like a play
Sean Hunt
(Sierra de Gredos mountains, Spain...2015?)
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 5:06 AM UTC