Pondering the Pace of Innovation

In Now You See It!, Cathy Davidson tells of some people who designed a robot in 2006 to take a typical bubble test. The robot was capable of decoding the question, conducting a simple search, and then using algorithms to select the answer. The robot scored significantly higher, 82%correct, than an average human. Given technological advances, now the robot likely could ace any of the tests currently out there. That notion is particularly scary since Davidson's major point is that such test focus on lower-level aptitudes. While this section of the book gave me plenty of ammunition in my tirades against standardized testing, this particular example prompted my thinking about something else: innovation--or at least what sometimes passes, and is even celebrated, for being innovative. As it that's enough in itself.

When I share the robot story with people, they generally have the same initial reaction that I did. They think it's pretty darned cool that someone designed such a robot. And in many ways it is. But when you really take a closer look at this, not to say it's easy, but this really is not particularly complex artificial intelligence.Yes, one might counter, but it's a robot! I mean, it's a robot reading and answering questions! How cool is that? Well, kinda cool. But I'd be really jazzed if it could...

Some of the innovation I read about in schools strikes me the same way. On the surface it looks great. But perhaps we confuse greatness with new and different, with unique. (I'm not going to provide any truly specific examples for two reasons: I don't want to single out anyone, and I hope you will consider cases of your own by this standard.) Whenever we evaluate curriculum and pedagogy, we must consider carefully what students will be asked to do and what criteria we really want to assess. Having students collaborate or blog or complete projects doesn't matter if students can still do so while having to do little more than basic recall and simple, routine tasks. Trivial pursuit remains trivial pursuit, whether played on a board or on a tablet pc.

Consider the following two scenarios. Teacher A is a master of the traditional Socratic method, and the routine seldom varies. Students in her class are challenged to think in ways they never imagined; as one student says, "I leave that class every day with my brain aching." They learn to question, to probe, to provide evidence, to reconsider...you can go down the list of vital critical thinking skills. They have to communicate through carefully crafted essays and eloquent speeches. Teacher B is incredibly creative, always finding exciting ways to engage the students in some fun class activity. The students Tweet as historical characters, create time period electronic archives, and map out elaborate timelines on the washable paint of their rooms. But it all remains superficial, a mess of dates and facts and names. The energy shaping the arc of history remains fuzzy.

Which class would you want your child in?

Obviously they are extreme examples, and In an ideal world we could merge the two. I hope that doesn't weaken the point. Plus I offer extreme examples for another reason, one that leads to perhaps a much tougher question. It's not uncommon for a school to have teachers at both ends of the spectrum. Think about the innovation craze. Think about what kids really need. Which teacher concerns you more?

I'm not some sort of educational Luddite. As I have written many times before, we need to keep reworking our models to provide better, more relevant education. We have an ethical, professional obligation to keep finding better practices. I want teachers experimenting; I want teachers creating a modern educational experience in every way. And I want it all not now, but years ago. But in doing so, I also want them to be quite mindful. That means we have to tap the brakes frequently rather than simply careen along random superhighways of innovation.

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Classic Whateverness

When I was in college, a friend and I hosted a show on the campus radio station. We called it "Classic Whateverness...in Full Operation." Our musical tastes diverged wildly, with only occasional overlaps. our format was quite simple: we alternated tunes, each of us picking whatever we felt like at the moment, often in direct response to the other's choice. It probably was the only radio show where one might here The Grateful Dead followed by Spyro Gyra. Sometimes we mixed it up and had to pick random songs from what the other had brought. Thematically it made no real sense. But somehow it worked. Well, for us; I can't speak for anyone who actually may have been listening.

I bring up that memory because I suspect this post is going to take on the feel of Classical Whateverness. Like a scattershooting piece, I'm simply going to comment on a variety of topics as they pop into my head. Some have been bubbling there for a while. Some are just occurring to me as I write. Don't expect much depth, but perhaps I'll stumble into something thought provoking. So here goes.

The Jeff Bliss video in which he lights into teacher at Duncanville High bothers me on many levels, mainly in how quickly so many have made him a heroic figure. Whether his points are right or not--and I tend to agree with--such petulance isn't the route to improvement....Why do we revel in such scenes? I worry about our civility....Is part of that video's appeal that too many have wanted to say that to some teacher? Sad thought....First trophy in over 30 years, first league title in over 40, couple of runner-up spots, return to European football--and Roberto Mancini is sacked by Manchester City. Yikes!...I've become huge fan of Twitter, and I've become fascinated by all the various ways different people use it and the sub-cultures. I may blog about it at some point. In meantime I hope Nick Bilton's book on it comes out soon....One real danger of Twitter is how easily it can become a self-affirming echo chamber....Also need to not correlate higher numbers with better quality....Best parts: easy connections and vetted resources flowing right to you all the time....I always feel a bit guilty when someone follows me and I don't follow back. But part of how I manage Twitter is by controlled following. That and hash tags....Never fail to enjoy post-series handshakes in NH!L, especially after game 7s. Love that teams can compete as intensely as that and then treat each other honorably....Sometimes the pessimistic bit of me frets we may be more than halfway to 22nd century before we can finally stop using the term 21st century education....Does anyone who's never taught realize how incredibly difficult it is? So when I think of the video mentioned above, I know there could be way too many minute-long clips I sure wouldn't want out there....Finally reading Prof. Cathy Davidson's Now You See It. Sure, I'm part of the choir, but it's still an amazing sermon that I think all should hear....When did I stop listening to music regularly? Was it when I had kids?...Had to stop at a Wal-Mart around 1:00 PM Monday on way to an appointment. Saw at least a dozen school-aged children there. It symbolizes for me that, amidst all the educational rhetoric, a large challenge is getting many people to care and/or see value of school....I am all for schools considering new models and practices, but we need to be wary of celebrating every act of innovation as a great effort. The work is too important to just keep throwing up new stuff and seeing what sticks. I want deeply thoughtful and intentional movement forward....Those who favor year-round school have never experienced the truly good tired of May as a great year winds down.

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Blogging Famine

I know that I have neglected my blog recently, to the point at which I feel as if I owe it letter of apology. Indeed, I thought of structuring this post that way...but it felt entirely too cutesy. Still, I am surprised that my last new post appeared almost a month ago. It's not been lack of desire or even a shortage of ideas or even laziness. In fact, I have been thinking about blogging a great deal, and this unintentional hiatus has reaffirmed--aye, strengthened--my belief in the value of the medium.

First, I should explain the absence. For a while there I was working on some major projects, none of which were particularly conducive to blogging. They were massive presentations, with numerous moving parts. One was our iPadPalooza, which involved dozens of teachers and students along with key remarks. It was spectacular, and the preparation just about consumed me for a while. That and the normalcy of school life. Plus some things were happening about which I simply never would blog. While social media expert Dana Boyd points out that young people live public lives by default, for a head of school to do that with some of what I experience would be simply wrong. Then, a week ago I had some extensive nose and throat surgery done. The recovery has been awful, and I am just starting to feel myself again.

So no blogging recently, which makes me think about blogging, and now I wish I could have been blogging about some of what I was trying to figure out. It really has felt like a blogging famine. Sure, I could have still written through my ideas, and I have really intricate mind maps full of notes and designs and rainbows. (The one for my thesis back in the 80s completely covered the walls of my apartment bedroom, but I digress.) Yet it simply isn't the same, and I think I have figured out why. It's the vulnerability in revealing the struggle, in showing that sometimes the room looks wonderful but, please, don't open that closet! Plus I believe that holds a certain attraction for many readers. Yes, we marvel at the shiny gadget or scrumptious-looking meal, but we also ponder the creative process. Selfishly, while I know I can put together an elegant essay or killer presentation, I also want people to sense what goes into it, the mental and, yes, physical sweat. So I'm honored and grateful when someone like Peter Gow, one of the most important voices in independent school educations, includes my work in his Education Week column on bloggers to follow (http://blogs.edweek.org/edweek/independent_schools/2013/05/more_independent_school_voices_a.html). Not only that, but comments:

"Deeply reflective and often refreshingly personal, this is a school head's blog about life, learning, and just keeping things, well, whole. Mark isn't afraid to tell us how he is learning; a recent post on experiencing his first Twitter chat (the #isedchat) was refreshingly honest and very relatable."

It's not just the validation, though I admit my ego continues to do a grand jig when I read that. It's that Peter gets what I am trying to explain throughout my work and in this piece about blogging. It's about never forgetting that learning ultimately is about process.

So while I reflect on my own blogging, the question becomes quite obvious, borderline rhetorical. Why wouldn't any teacher have students blog? It's one of the best chances we have to gain any sense of how learning proceeds for them, to raft those intellectual rapids through their ever-changing synapses. If all we assess if how well someone has learned to meet the oft-dictatorial guidelines of a rubric to produce the sort of paper no one ever writes once out of school, we haven't served kids as well as we might. In some ways we've done them a disservice. We would have denied them some key nutrients.

Then we certainly won't have kept things whole. And while I trust Peter--and most of you kind enough to read--know what that means, soon I'll explain the blog's title and thus pull back the curtain a tiny bit more.

 

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Our Great U.S. Cities Tour and Education

                A few years ago my wife and I developed a loose strategic plan for our family vacations. We decided that we would, in no particular order, show our children the great cities of the United States. They have been going to New York since they were little because of my family, and we plan to visit again this summer. We’ve visited Boston, New Orleans, San Francisco and, during the past spring break, Washington D.C.

                Recently thoughtful people have been having very serious, energizing conversations about the future of school. Without going into specifics and at the risk of oversimplifying, I’ll summarize some of the main points. Constant change, giant unknowns, increased complexity—in such a world, schools have a practical and ethical obligation to re-examine everything about education. We require new literacies to thrive in a changing, unpredictable world. Schools used to be the gateway, the access point to learning. Now learning about anything can occur anywhere, anytime. On-line delivery and MOOCs enable delivery efficiencies that call current models into question, particularly on the university level. However, I still believe that teachers and schools have a vital role to play in education, and those family trips have clarified for me a new way to think of that role.

                Before our first trip on this plan, my kids were skeptical. “Boston?” I remember them squawking. “Why would we want to go to Boston?” We did our best to explain, but they didn’t really get it. Once there, though, they fell in love with the city and the entire experience. On subsequent trips they have done quite a bit of the research up front, scoping out possible hotels and restaurants and helping to plan the itinerary. While there, they engaged fully in different activities and often did follow-up reading and research depending on what piqued their curiosity. When we told them at Christmas we would be going to D.C., they were thrilled. My son immediately began exploring places on-line, and my daughter pulled up our congressman’s website so we could plan tours through his office.

                Yes, we live in a time of amazing abundance, when we can learn all sorts of things through easy access. And not just information, but skills and concepts. It is really quite remarkable. At the same time, however, that learning can remain superficial and one-dimensional and rather directionless; both the consumption and the contributions can become rather narcissistic. Even in the best circumstances, young people need some guidance through the learning process.

                And it’s in providing such guidance that the new role can emerge. I believe one of the most influential ways we can promote the type of learning in this emerging world is to create the right sort of experiences. To immerse students in experiences that don’t tell them they have to learn something, but that make them want to learn something, to believe it’s vitally important they do so. That the learning matters to them.

                The richness of the Internet—like the tapestry of those great cities—can allow us to craft those sorts of experiences. (But we must be careful not to over-plan and thus defeat the point.) It’s why I’m so encouraged by the increase in project-based learning, various discovery models, question-centered curricula, and design-thinking. The best, most meaningful education comes when you explore and engage with the world.

Reaction to News a Computer Can Grade Essays

The science section of yesterday’s New York Times had the headline—or at least some variation thereof— I’ve been expecting to see for a while now:  New Test for Computers: Grading Essays at College Level. I still gagged a bit.

I’m not skeptical that a computer program with sophisticated enough AI software can grade basic essays. At this point, doing so is perhaps not even that great a challenge.

But why would we ever think this is a good thing? To me this development captures so many of the ills plaguing education, particularly an unrelenting push to standardize as much as possible.

Let’s consider the following example. I know it’s extreme, and it’s not the sort of work the computers would be grading. But bear with me to what I think will be a clear point. Students used to ask me frequently how long a paper had to be. Early in the year, I would bring in two of my favorite novels, Melville’s Moby-Dick and Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea, and juxtapose them. They are, I would explain, in many ways the same essential story told in very different ways. The kids grasped the message. I wonder how a computer would deal with either classic work.

That notion leads quite naturally into the same concept expanded. Language is tied to the same neurological expansion that enabled us to develop tools. It encompasses the higher of human capabilities, that amazing cerebral flexibility to merge the abstract and the concrete, to capture thought and imagination in ways that seem almost tangible to us. Not only that, but language also allows us to express ourselves in infinitely, highly individualistic fashion while unifying us as a community.

And at a time when creativity and communication are keys to solving the gigantic issues we face as a society—perhaps as a species—why would we willingly reduce the assessment of a vital human skill to a series of algorithms?