tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71298996449521962742024-02-19T02:18:35.029-06:00To Keep Things WholeI use this space to reflect on education, childhood and a variety of interesting things that cross my path as a school administrator, educator and parent. I hope you'll join the conversation.Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099567332113135358noreply@blogger.comBlogger326125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-64402210885434255912019-05-24T09:50:00.000-05:002019-05-24T09:50:58.021-05:00Last Last Day Today is the last day of classes for the year at St. John's. As excited as students are on this day, sometimes the teachers are even more so. They've given so much of themselves for the past nine months, and they need to enjoy a more relaxed pace for a while.<br />
For me, the last day has always been a bit mixed. Yes, there is the prospect of summer and all that implies. At the same time, however, it comes with a sense of loss. the relationships have deepened, and the student growth is growing exponentially. The possibilities seem even greater.<br />
This year I feel that loss more acutely. Today is my last last day. While I'll still be working with and visiting schools, I won't be in a school, surrounded by kids, experiencing those daily and yearly rhythms, hearing that joyful buzz. I won't be saying "Happy New Year!" twice a year, even more expectantly in August/September. I won't, as just happened, have two third-grade girls bringing me a special poster about carnivals, giggling when I asked about their research and replying, "Google."<br />
Remove the kids, and you remove our reason for being, our motivation. I know that seems obvious, but sometimes we lose sight of that as we grapple about all the other facets of school. Meanwhile, kids place tremendous faith and trust in us. That's easy to see in younger students, but it holds true even as they're pushing us away at key developmental points. At times I feel a bit overwhelmed by the awesome responsibility with which we've been charged. It can even feel somehow sacred.<br />
On this last last day, I intend to cement as many images in my memory as I can. Along with ones from throughout the past 36 years in a school, I'll evoke them for inspiration in future work.Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-77202826090823386112019-03-26T15:28:00.001-05:002019-03-26T15:28:33.576-05:00Is The Room Really That Smart? I hadn't heard/seen the phrase "The smartest person in the room is the room" for a while. Or perhaps it's just become such a commonly accepted truth that it doesn't register anymore. Today, though, when I saw it in a Tweet, I wondered, "Really?"<br />
The concept makes sense: that there is greater collective intelligence in the room than in any individual. I'm sure that's true when it comes to conglomeration of knowledge, skills, understandings. Advocates like to point to some example in which a group's estimates are averaged about something and that turns out much closer than any single stab. At the same time, however, we've probably all been in situations when the room is not that smart, mainly because of the dynamics in the room. Groupthink, domination by the loudest voice, individual biases coalescing, intimidation and fear--all these things and more can, no matter how brilliant the people in the room, dumb down the room. This can show up in meetings, through our media and information consumption (the how and the what), and in our rush to judgmental conclusion.<br />
Perhaps we need to add the word <i>possibly </i>to the saying: "The smartest person in the room is <i>possibly </i>the room." The goal remains admirable. To achieve it demands rethinking some of our conceptions about learning, particularly as it's tied to achievement.<br />
While there's been some shifting, for the most part schooling has been seen as an individual endeavor, albeit within a largely homogeneous context. Even efforts to differentiate highlight this personalization. It becomes a competition, even a sort of contact sport. Students receive individual grades. Their achievement is scaled against other students'. They are ranked. They fight for admission. Events such as the recent college admissions scandal morph the competition into a battle royale straight out of pro wrestling.<br />
Yes, I exaggerate somewhat. But I contend the underlying points are valid. Further, they contribute to why the room may not be the smartest person. We are not trained that way. Plus human egos can take over.<br />
But the potential is there; as I said, the concept makes sense. Turning that concept into reality will necessitate some shifts.<br />
We have to become even more mission driven, particularly in ways that emphasize the common good as being the desired derivative of individual progress. For example, "smart cities" are those which put a premium on all sorts of learning, which improves life throughout those communities. This also means rethinking the markers of success, the standards for entry, and the impediments to access.<br />
Tied to all that, and particularly the markers of success, we need to reflect on what we mean by "smart." What are the things we truly value, and how do they relate to our conceptions of intelligence? Do our practices really foster them? We would have to shed our obsession with metrics, contests, and award. We would have to embrace process over product. We would have to secede from the cults of personality and individualism.<br />
If we can rock our worlds in those ways, then we can do a much better job at how to really make the room smarter. We must learn how to collaborate. By that I don't mean simply cordial and collegial when working together. I mean pushing and prodding each other; challenging respectfully; holding firm while remaining open; admitting vulnerabilities; adapting one's position, maybe even 180 degrees; all while aspiring towards higher, common goals.<br />
Yes, then the room would be much smarter. And so will each person it it.<br />
<br />
<br />Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-61773679065426714112019-03-08T09:10:00.001-06:002019-03-08T09:10:50.914-06:00Reimagining Independent Schools. For Sure. How about the Conference Itself?<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Preface: I need to acknowledge at the start that this post is going to bother me, and it may bother you for the same reason. I'm going to point out a challenge; I may even rant a bit. But I don't really offer any solutions, as I recognize just how complicated this is. Sigh...</i></blockquote>
<br />
A week ago I was attending the National Association of Independent School's Annual Conference. The theme was "Reimagining Independent Schools: Tearing Down Walls, Building Capacity, and Designing Our Future." I'm very glad to report that much of what I heard suggests that many schools are reimagining, with no aspect of education left unexamined. Except perhaps one.<br />
The conference was just like so many other NAIS conferences. Except for small additions through the years, the overall format and schedule remains the same. Sessions unfold the same way, with so much sitting and listening, despite presenters' promises to make them interactive. To be fair to NAIS, I can say this about just about any conference I've ever attended. And the NAIS one is of high quality, and I always find it very worthwhile. Still, I think it's appropriate to ask, when we're being challenged to reimagine schools: How might we reimagine the annual conference?<br />
That's a giant ask, and it would take an extensive team quite a while to dig into it. It could be an incredible design thinking exercise. Meanwhile, the conference think tank changes each year and consists of volunteers with demanding roles in their schools. Logistically, you have to think about several thousand people. You have to book a convention center, presenters, services, et cetera. It is an efficient way for people to share and download information. In many ways the convention format works just fine, even really well; so, you know, there's no reason to re-invent the wheel.<br />
Some people have tried to do that, at least on a small scale. For a while the unconference was popular. I can't imagine trying that with 6000 folks, though. As I admitted in the preface, I don't have any big, hairy idea for this. I do have a small one, though. A place to start.<br />
School leaders everywhere have asked teachers to rethink the classroom experience. Whatever format it takes, it shouldn't look like the traditional teacher-centered classroom. We want to see teachers taking risks in how they design immersive, active learning experiences. Yet how many conference presenters do this? Most of the sessions I've attended over the years, even recently, rely on very traditional pedagogy.<br />
As we're reimaging a conference, consider how so much meaningful change occurs within our schools. Leaders set a direction towards an imagined better, modelling it when possible. Then the teachers in the classrooms bring about the change we need to see. Ultimately, it comes down to brave individuals experimenting as they chase an ideal.Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-5008254041474161832019-03-02T08:14:00.000-06:002019-03-02T08:14:16.145-06:00What Game Are We Playing? The Close of 2019 NAIS Annual Conference I eagerly anticipated Simon Sinek's presentation at the 2019 NAIS Annual Conference, and his extended examination of playing finite versus infinite games captured so many of the issues we struggle with in education. While familiar with the concept, I never had thought of how it applies to education. Yet it raises a crucial notion we must consider in taking a hard look at ourselves as we reimagine education.<br />
Among many of the thoughts that swirled in my mind, one immediately led to this Tweet:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en">
<div dir="ltr" lang="en">
Listening to <a href="https://twitter.com/simonsinek?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">@simonsinek</a> at <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/naisac?src=hash&ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">#naisac</a> and thinking that if we’re really inspiring lifelong learning, we are helping kids to love playing an infinite game.</div>
— Mark Crotty (@crottymark) <a href="https://twitter.com/crottymark/status/1101649120614207488?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">March 2, 2019</a></blockquote>
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>
Sinek kept talking about how finite games end, with rigid rules, with a clear winner and a loser.When we preach mission, of course, we imagine students engaging in an infinite game. A mission is aspirational; it's our linguistic attempt to express the ideals towards which we strive. Just as Sinek talked about America growing over time into the notion of everyone being equal, we grow into our missions. We keep finding ways to do better.<br />
At the same time, though, we must ask ourselves what are some of the traditional practices in school--ones that we hang onto as we consider other innovations--that turn learning into a finite game for students. Think about how a course ends with a test called a "final." Grading and academic prizes. The metrics we use. The celebration on next-school placement. Consider how we design curriculum, with distinct departments, courses, units, credits, scope-and sequence. We could create similar lists about many aspects of school. Many of them are captured in a book actually called <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Game-School-Change-Jossey-Bass-Education/dp/1119143594/ref=asc_df_1119143594/?tag=hyprod-20&linkCode=df0&hvadid=312425492373&hvpos=1o1&hvnetw=g&hvrand=1868652816309922237&hvpone=&hvptwo=&hvqmt=&hvdev=c&hvdvcmdl=&hvlocint=&hvlocphy=9060321&hvtargid=aud-643330155750:pla-570983409798&psc=1" target="_blank"><i>The Game of School: Why We All Play It, Why It Hurts Kids, and What It Will Take to Change It</i>.</a><br />
As we're doing all this reimagining, we must reflect on what Sinek calls our just cause. We can't just rush forward with the new without courageously questioning everything and asking what game we invite students to play.Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-56787508420431318452019-03-01T06:42:00.000-06:002019-03-01T06:42:34.442-06:00Serendipitous Synchronicity on Day 1 at 2019 NAIS Annual Conference A common question after a meeting or a conference is: What were your three key takeaways? Often this means something concrete. When I come to an event such as the NAIS Annual Conference, I hope for an idea I can implement right away, whether at my school or in my own development.Yesterday, while all the sessions were fine, I didn't get any of those gems. However, and perhaps more importantly, through pure serendipity I was reminded of a larger, imperative truth.<div>
I began the day with a session on the link between leadership and cultural competency. A key point is not only making sure that we recognize what diverse members bring to our communities, but also creating environments where they feel respected enough to share their gifts. After that we heard Viola Davis, whose story is one totally removed from most of our schools, and I found myself wondering how she would have fared in one of them, particularly with how many of them were when she was a child.Yet consider how she has impacted the world through her gifts. Then I ended the day hearing Franz Johansson's keynote on the link between diversity and innovation. In an oversimplified equation, I'll summarize his message as more diversity equals greater innovation. At least in the right circumstances.</div>
<div>
As I walked around the conference yesterday, I also found myself reflecting on how wonderfully different this conference looks than when I first attended over thirty years ago. That's another massive reason why so much reimagining is occurring. In so many ways we are learning not to reject the different,but to embrace it.</div>
Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-54943560077018618312019-02-27T21:36:00.000-06:002019-02-27T21:36:44.326-06:00Questions and Possibilities: The Best Part of NAIS Annual Conference One of the most challenging aspects of attending events as rich as an NAIS Annual Conference is determining which workshops to attend. So many look so good. Many measure up; some inevitably don't. Now, with so many people live Tweeting as they sit in sessions, buyer's remorse has become part of the experience. I'm also torn between choosing sessions that I believe will yield information I can bring back to my current school and what I can use in my upcoming role as the incoming executive director of the Northwest Association of Independent Schools. But the more I think about that, the more I realize how much they overlap in terms of my choosing. That's because, tied to the conference theme of Reimagining Independent Schools, everything is open to question. At least based on the descriptions in the program, sessions will touch upon, whether directly or indirectly, every aspect of school life. And it's up to leaders to keep asking questions about everything. Why this? Why that?<br />
Why? Why ask why? Simon Sinek, who will close the conference, preaches that everything comes back to the why. Many of us have been preaching a similar idea for a long time: the idea of being mission driven. We will claim--rightly, I think--that we know our why. But larger, harder questions remain about what our why means in a VUCA world. What does academic excellence mean? What is the role of the teacher? What should classrooms look like? How do we distribute leadership? How do we maintain core values in a world increasingly both divided and more connected? What makes for effective governance? How do we embrace diversity while forming communities? How do we protect healthy childhood? Is there really a place for an explicit curriculum based on the usual disciplines? Of course, each of these questions spurs endless others.<br />
It can seem rather overwhelming. And while these are somewhat eternal questions,for a long time we saw no need to ask them. Then, for a while, many avoided them. Now, though, more and more people are asking them, more frequently by choice rather than necessity. People attending this conference are so fortunate to work in independent schools. We're not subject to tangles of regulation, and we have the freedom to develop the schools we can envision. We can ask the important questions and chase the best answers. Our mindset as we do so largely determines what we find and what we create. It's about openness to the possible, whether adjacent or possible.<br />
That may be the best part of the annual conference. It highlights the possible, nourishing the idealist in each of us.Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-29058869625034915422019-02-25T10:35:00.001-06:002019-02-25T10:36:26.480-06:00As I Head to NAIS Annual Conference 2019..."If you don't know where you are going, any road will get you there." --Lewis Carroll<br />
<br />
"If you don't know where you are going, you might wind up someplace else." --Yogi Berra<br />
<br />
As the <a href="http://annualconference.nais.org/" target="_blank">2019 NAIS Conference theme and introductory blurb promotes, we're "Reimagining Independent Schools: Tearing Down Walls, Building Capacity, and Designing Our Future</a>." Evidently no aspect of school life isn't being questioned, and I find that exhilarating. Change is happening, faster and faster, even if some of the daily realities don't always live up to the rhetoric. Many schools look and feel different that they did just a few years ago; certainly than they did twenty years ago. At the same time, some things feel too familiar, whether within a single school or as one compares schools. "Innovation" often means adopting what has worked somewhere else. Some of that occurs because we learn from each other. Some of it is market expectations. I think, more than anything, it's because we're figuring it out as we zip along.<br />
For just that reason, I may be most excited a<a href="https://startwithwhy.com/" target="_blank">bout hearing Simon Sinek speak at the confer</a>ence. I've admired his work for a while, and in 2015 I <a href="http://tokeepthingswhole.blogspot.com/2015/09/leadership-based-on-why.html" target="_blank">led people here through some workshops based on his book <i>Start With Why</i></a>. If we're really going to take advantage of this moment in time and create meaningful change--even foment a revolution--we must be clear on the reasons. That demands deep reflection. We have to delve inward and outward, backward and forward. We must question our questions. The process of discernment never ends, yet it swirls around solid core. Without that, we risk losing ourselves along the way. Indeed, we may become more similar than truly unique.<br />
Thus, I hope to hear more than the details about programs and positions and facilities. I can tap into plenty of that from myriad other sources. I admire what those schools have done; I even feel tinges of jealousy at times. But that doesn't inspire. It's not visceral enough. As I head to NAIS Annual Conference, I crave stories about how schools bared their souls, embraced the angels, and grappled with the demons while reimagining themselves. Therein lies the real courage.<br />
Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-20410326525355110712019-02-20T13:54:00.000-06:002019-02-20T13:54:25.782-06:00The Irony of School Security I've come all-too-familiar with the pattern, to the point at which I can almost predict exactly when each step will occur. Somewhere there is a mass shooting, and within the next few days I receive several emails from companies about increasing our security. Last weekend they poured in after the shooting at a factory in Aurora, Illinois. Per usual, I systematically hit delete while shaking my head in dismay at this vulturous opportunism.<br />
This time, though, hitting delete didn't erase some nagging thoughts from my mind, lodged in place by several security-related items from the week. We take security very seriously here, and we've improved tremendously over the past several years. Still, we're going to have a security audit performed later this spring. Earlier in the week we'd had a presentation from the vendor, and I kept thinking about what it must be like to view the world through their lens, sensing potential threats in every corner. Last week also marked the anniversary of the Parkland shootings, and I saw a headline about how <a href="https://www.wate.com/news/local-news/florida-schoolfirst-in-nation-to-have-guards-carrying-long-guns/1778078569" target="_blank">one school in Florida now has guards armed with rifles</a>. I also read <a href="https://www.firstcoastnews.com/article/news/nation-world/love-mom-and-dad-girl-writes-what-she-thinks-are-her-last-words-on-arm-during-school-lockdown/507-aaf4e18d-3f9e-4d3d-9381-fb52bab17106" target="_blank">the heart-breaking story of the young girl who wrote "Love Mom and Dad" on her arm in purple marker because she was convinced she was going to die during a drill at school</a>.<br />
While I've often appreciated the notion of school being a sanctuary, I always held that ideal in a more metaphorical/philosophical sense. Like a monastery, it would be a place safe from the distractions of the outside world, dedicated to learning and growth. Now we have those who feel the need to turn our schools into castles, complete with battlements and a moat, accessible only via drawbridge and through a closely-monitored portcullis. The walls would grow higher and thicker, sometimes two layers deep.<br />
We've also constructed symbolic and metaphorical walls in many aspects of life. Of course, the idea of a border wall dominates much of our political dialogue now, mainly because of what some consider a threat of dangerous immigrants. While I have strong opinions, I'm not going to comment here on whether I believe it's necessary, would work, et cetera. As an educator, I'm worried about something much more basic: What is all of this teaching children? And what is the effect on me as an educator?<br />
In his <a href="https://teamhuman.fm/" target="_blank">book <i>Team Human</i>, Douglas Rushkoff</a> argues that we, like the technology which has shaped so much of modern life, have begun to think primarily in binary terms. We've certainly seen that notion hold faster and faster throughout our culture. It divides us even further. Let's think about this concept when it comes to what children are experiencing as they grow up these days. In simple binary terms it boils down to this. Inside the walls, I should be (not <i>am</i>) safe. But outside the walls lurk loads of really bad people who want to gain entry and harm us. Ponder the implications of that. Is it any wonder we see steadily increasing rates of anxiety and depression? Ironically, the amped-up security infects us with insecurity.<br />
Never did I think I would have to spend so much time and energy worrying about school security. That's sad enough. But the true depression comes from something much deeper, something rooted in my very "why." While filled with bright spots, education is a difficult, messy, slow process. Sometimes it can feel thankless, and criticism is frequent. What drives great educators forward through all that is an inextinguishable belief in the potential of each and every person. And that may be the most important thing we can teach our children.<br />
Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-30800931871124293732019-01-28T10:59:00.000-06:002019-01-28T10:59:45.434-06:00My Own #BookChallenge--Art of Culling I've been enjoying one of the latest social media rages: the seven-day #bookchallenge, in which one posts a picture of the cover of a book that's particularly meaningful to them, with no explanation, and calls out someone else. The tweets evoke questions, memories, and insights while adding to my mental stack.<br />
While no one has called me out, this past weekend my wife and I went through our own form of the #bookchallenge. In preparation for our upcoming big move*, we've been slowly going through our house and cleaning out. We've done clothing, furniture, assorted other items, with even more to come. And after nearly 25 years of marriage which has included rearing two adult children, we have accumulated plenty of stuff. Plus we're both English majors and English teachers by background, who both write and who love to read. You know what that means...<br />
This past weekend, we took on the books.<br />
Now we have 10 good-sized boxes of books to be given away and/or sold. Some were easy to scuttle. Perhaps the initial attraction had faded. Others elicited sharp pangs of guilt, as if I'd used them for what I wanted and then cast them off. Most were somewhere in between. Actually, most stayed home, as this was perhaps, at most, a third of our books.<br />
I found myself wondering what someone rummaging through these boxes might conclude about me from these books, beyond that I'm a #booknerd who possibly could become a true hoarder. (It's a good thing they can't also see my e-book library.) Perhaps I should say, rather than <i>wondering</i>, what I <i>hope</i>. That I'm a learner, with an eclectic, electric curiosity. That I want to improve. That I draw from an array of resources in my quest for understanding. That I must weave a dense web of what I take from each book. That reading is my way of connecting with people and the world in ways I otherwise couldn't.<br />
For those us who are true readers--that sounds snootier than I want, so I rely on your knowing what I mean--that final point is at the heart of a love affair with books. It's relational. It may have begun in any number of ways. Perhaps it was a need to combat loneliness or to battle introversion. Maybe it was to stoke intellectual sparks that school failed to feed. At the other extreme, a teacher may have offered that book which turned on a kid previously averse to reading. It could be simply an innate love of words and language and story. You likely have your own story.<br />
For us the books are more than the collections of words and ideas. It's their design; yes, to some degree, we do judge a book by its cover. It's their sensory appeal; we like the way one feels in our hands, the tiny joy of flipping a page, the delight in opening the cover when both starting and when done. We engage in conversations with the author. Especially if we write ourselves, we empathize with the courage and determination and talent and self that author is sharing with us. It's all as visceral as it is intellectual.<br />
It's why we can't understand those who don't/won't read. Yes, we judge them. Surely, we figure, they simply haven't found the right book. It's why, when we're struggling to explain something, we reach for a book. It's why we share books, offer reviews, stay up too late reading, build tottering piles, buy more than we can actually read.<br />
And it's why culling is more than a #bookchallenge. It's damned hard. Sad. Painful. You may be wondering why we don't just keep all our books. Pragmatism has its place. It also forces a healthy reflection. This process reminds me how much I treasure books and what they suggest about me and the culture of which I choose to be a part.<br />
We have a bit more to do before I take all the boxes to the used-book store. The clerk will, I'm sure, offer me just cent(s) on the dollar. That's okay. No one can properly monetize books' true value.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
*For those who don't know, after 9 great years as head of school at St. John's Episcopal, on July 1 I will become the Executive Director of the Northwest Association of Independent Schools. We'll be moving from our beloved Dallas to Seattle.Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-23727610220004985582018-11-14T11:15:00.000-06:002018-11-14T11:15:29.798-06:00Trending? Or Timeless?<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>In the section on
journalism in his <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N4VV7B6/ref=dp-kindle-redirect?_encoding=UTF8&btkr=1" target="_blank">World Without Mind,Franklin Foer</a> argues the primary force now is “trending.” Even more than clicks
and views and likes and reposts, journalists worry about what’s trending and
react accordingly. It almost seems the reverse of the time-honored notion of
the scoop. This, in turn, drastically affects one’s perceptions and even larger
understandings. I’ve been wondering if the same focus isn’t part of what’s been
haunting independent education.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>If you know me,
whether personally or through this blog and my Twitter stream, you know I
believe strongly in progressive, innovative movement in education. For years I’ve
preached, “Evolve or die.” While rather dramatic, it also strikes me as too
patient. Somewhere is that sweet spot at which we move forward with due haste…and
with due thoughtfulness. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Many schools are doing
some extraordinary work, keeping their DNA while still significantly adapting
programs and practices to meet student’s needs right now and in the future. For
example, many schools have “academic excellence” as part of their mission
statements. Just what does that mean, especially in 2018? What are the
implications of our conclusions? What should change? How far are we willing to
go? How honestly are we answering these questions?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It often seems that
school are, like those journalists, reacting to trends. In some ways it’s a
form of silver bullet, latest and greatest thinking born of a desire to
improve. That’s been a long-term practice in education. (Should I have said
trend?) Recall when television and filmstrips were the greatest? Individualized
reading packets with leveled comprehension tests? More current examples are
makerspaces and mindfulness. So many schools have rushed to create specific
makerspaces and to incorporate mindfulness. Both have value, but we need to
think very deeply about these ideas big picture. For example, if a school believes
in the principles of a maker space—and they are exciting—they should not be
limited to a space if the rest of the program remains much the same. Instead, it
should flow throughout the school. (I’ve written more extensively about this
idea <a href="https://tokeepthingswhole.blogspot.com/2015/10/make-makerspace.html" target="_blank">here</a>.) As for mindfulness, given the increased rates of anxiety among our
students, I’m glad we’re doing something. But there is a very pressing, further
reaching question: what is our role in creating the need for mindfulness
programs and what do we do to change that?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
I wonder, just as media grabs onto what’s trending to
gain an audience, whether schools sometime do the same because of legitimate
fears of financial sustainability. It certainly explains some other current,
perhaps unhealthy, things occurring in many schools. They are primarily part of
how we operate as businesses. For example, I hear more references to our
customers. I see it in some of the ways we brand and market ourselves. I’m not
opposed to these things; and while hopelessly romantic idealist in some ways, I
fully accept that independent schools are businesses. The question lies in how
we do that business. How have we, as one head wrote, moved to such a
contractual relationship in our communities? Meanwhile, are we plumbing our
souls? Baring them? Or selling them?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
I don’t think it’s the latter. At least not very much.
Quality educators remain committed to mission and ideals and kids. But I’m not
sure we have enough of the first two. After all, we scream, there isn’t time
for all that reflection. Perhaps that is because we’re so busy grabbing on to
the next best thing, whatever is trending at the time. Ironically, and this is
where I draw the significant hope, at this point in time, so <a href="https://tokeepthingswhole.blogspot.com/2011/02/on-educational-fomentation.html" target="_blank">much of what’s trending harkens to the timeless, most precious elements of human learning.</a><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-74328275592744779932018-11-06T12:58:00.001-06:002018-11-06T16:09:39.821-06:00My Election Day 2018 MessageThe following is the note I shared with employees at St. John's Episcopal School today. People's responses prompt me to post it here.<br />
<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yesterday
at the ISAS Heads of School meeting, I was talking with a friend about the
state of our nation right now. We shared a fear: that no matter the results of
today’s election, no one wins. We see the potential for (perhaps the likelihood
of) wider division, increased vitriol, and more aggressive lashing out.<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
think, individually and collectively, our nation is tired. Bone tired. Our souls
are pleading for rest and healing. Psychic and spiritual health suffers when we
are battered with negative energy jolts that drive us to fear and fret rather
than aspire and hope. We thrive on love, yet the air feels filled with hate.<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Hatred
comes out in humans in a unique fashion. In other species hatred arises out of
a survival instinct. In humans, while there is some of that, hatred often spews
out of a desire to express supremacy. In current times both notions seem
applicable. Whatever the cause, hatred in any form directly contradicts one of
the main tenets we preach at St. John’s, which beseeches us to be a community
where we respect the dignity of every human being. One of the things I most
appreciate about our school is that we strive to do this.<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Always keep
that ideal in mind. Do so especially on days like today and tomorrow, when
people will be feeling the gamut of emotions. Some may feel nothing. You may,
as I do feel particularly vulnerable at such times, when it feels as if any
encounter could spin out of control. Whatever you may feel, such times
challenge us to suppress our primal instincts and to invoke our higher angels.<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When
you find that difficult, think of this. We are among the lucky ones. Our
calling as educators empowers us to positively influence the next generation,
helping them grow into the type of leaders we need, mainly by demanding and
modeling the right behavior. Speaking to the heads this morning, Brene Brown
pointed out that education is the most important inflection point for meaningful
change on a large scale. It’s where leadership matters most. That’s truly
awesome—as in great and as in awe inspiring.</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-2469022920164762642018-10-24T12:32:00.002-05:002018-11-15T20:27:47.099-06:00The "Important" Versus the Important One aspect of education that makes it particularly challenging work is that everything potentially has greater gravity than it may seem at the moment. For example, every interaction with another person, whether a colleague or especially a student, holds amazing potential energy, either positive or negative. Each class can turn off or turn on one or more learners. I don't recall the exact number, but I remember reading somewhere how educators make an incredible number of potentially impactful decisions each day--many more so than most people.That's quite awesome. It's also both invigorating and exhausting.<br />
It's also why I think we need to reflect on another real challenge tied to this first one: discerning the "important" from the important. The former are those things that we tend to hold out as crucial, even vital, far beyond their real value. The latter are what truly matters.<br />
For example, let's consider a typical English curriculum and ask some big questions. What is the purpose? Is it to study literature, meaning the general canon and genres and literary elements and how authors speak to each other across generations? In other words, it is to study <i>literature </i>(pronounced with suitably snooty tone)? Or is it for us to consider aspects of the human condition as they play out in myriad ways across cultures? Or, even simpler, is it supposed to keep alive--spark?--a love of reading deeply? Why is it so heavily focused on literature? Why is the overwhelming majority of writing based on formulaic essays and standard literary criticism? Why do we even have English classes rather than Communications classes?<br />
One can raise similar questions, of course, about other disciplines. In chemistry classes students struggle to memorize elements of the periodic table. But does that really help them to understand how that table works or the relationships between elements? Currently some healthy debate is raging about algebra. Why is that the one almost universally-required math course when it seems to be the one that turns many kids off from math? I don't have definite answers to these questions, but I certainly have opinions. And I do know we need to be considering such notions.<br />
However one answers these questions, we put misplaced faith in curricula, imparting upon it unjustified importance. Despite what I have to see as the bald marketing attempts in the use of this label, there is no teacher-proof curriculum. Conversely, a great teacher can bring a terrible curriculum alive. Similarly, we place too much faith in assessment, whether standardized or teacher-generated. That naturally then leads to grades, perhaps the currency whose value we have most inflated.<br />
I could keep going. Any thoughtful reader can add to the list. A list can help us keep focus on the right issues--and deem what is truly important.<br />
We also must ask another key question: Why do so many of us become so overwrought about the "important"?<br />
One reason is a positive one. It's that we have many passionate, caring, dedicated people concerned about education. That can also be a challenge in that sometimes our lizard brain, despite being primitive and small, overwhelms the cerebral cortex. In less scientific terms, we react emotionally to the immediate. Further, as humans we prefer the tangible, the measurable; they are easier for us to grasp, to manage, even to manipulate. We become more vulnerable to the traps of fast thinking. Our vision can become myopic, monochromatic, one-dimensional. Rigid even. The sort of outlook that promotes pure rigor. Which often means just more of the same.<br />
Learning at its best, though, is scintillating, imaginative, speculative, kaleidoscopic. It revels in the process, both in the here and now and wherever it may be going, knowing it never really arrives at a certain destination. But hoping. It's that insatiable curiosity innate in us at birth, optimally raging for the rest of our lives.<br />
We assign much of what we deem "important" that status because of short-term thinking.But as one of my mentors regularly encouraged, we need to "take the long view--the longest view possible." At the risk of seeming melodramatic, perhaps we should consider education in the same way David Brooks encouraged to consider living our lives for building a resume or a eulogy. To capture that notion, I'll defer to one of my former students, who graduated high school in 1988. In a comment on a blog post I wrote in 2012 after a beloved educator passed away, he wrote:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">ESA was never about the location. It is a sugar cane field in between Lafayette and New Iberia. The population of Cade, LA doubles every morning and halves every night. It was always about the teachers. Coach Rhoades, Madame Garboushian, Ms. Dobkins, Mr. Olverson, Dr. White, Mr. Tutwiler and, yes, you, Mr. Crotty, taught us more about what the journey we had in front of us than any of the lessons and tests we had to pass. Prep school for once meant more than learning what we needed to know to succeed in college. It also prepared us for the challenges we faced outside the classroom. I remember very little of the books that I read back then (enjoyed Watership Down, couldn't summarize it for you if I tried). I do not remember a specific PE class Coach Rhoades taught. I do remember many of the conversations we had over 24 years ago --- conversations that stay with me and continually educate me to this day. May Coach Rhoades rest in peace with the knowledge that his lessons were always destined to outlive him --- and us.</span></span></blockquote>
<br />
Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-1442929358075340022018-08-28T08:35:00.000-05:002018-08-28T08:35:29.261-05:00Hope at Start of School Year...and Beyond The beginning of a new year is special because of how it captures such a sense of hope and possibility. The adults sense it in each student, and the kids trust in us to help them discover all the ways their innate sense of it can turn into startling realities. When it works right, it stokes that joyful sense of learning.Then you have students wanting to return to school.<br />
Of course, those who've never been harbor some trepidation, no matter what they've been told. It's why one of my favorite scenes during the opening couple of weeks is at morning carpool. A pre-K or K child will be reluctant, barely inching along the sidewalk, eyes bulging and sometimes a bit moist. Then an older child--usually a sibling, sometimes a family friend, sometimes just an empathetic upper elementary or middle schooler--will clasp the small child's hand or drape an arm around their shoulders, smile and whisper some encouragement, and walk them in. A small but giant kindness.<br />
When I see such scenes, ones that children re-create in myriad ways without really thinking, I feel hopeful. They are why why we see them, to be cliched, as the hope for the future. At the same time, it reminds us that at our core people are basically kind and helpful, something we can forget as we suffer what feel like daily blizzards of vitriol in these turbulent, divisive times.<br />
Last week I had a five-day period during which I had quite a bit of travel, pinging around different time zones. Between travel and appointments, I decided to observe and reflect on random human behavior, particularly how we treat strangers. Other than one guy yelling over the phone at a service agent about a flight situation, I saw nothing I would describe as rude. Instead, I saw general niceness. Here's just a partial list of incidents which stand out: <br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>People helping others stow and take down carry-on luggage on an airplane.</li>
<li>My son's college roommate waiting for him to arrive before setting anything up so they could decide how to arrange things together.</li>
<li>The lady who helped a struggling mom fold up a stroller as her toddler screamed.</li>
<li>Drivers letting each other in during a rush hour traffic jam.</li>
<li>The hotel clerk who had our room cleaned in a tight time frame as we requested.</li>
<li>A teen helping an older couple figure out how to check in at the airport.</li>
<li>Incredible patience by many with a person who kept getting buzzed in the metal detector.</li>
<li>The clerk who helped with my luggage when I returned my rental car and double-checked to make sure I knew the way to the terminal.</li>
<li>The man who told his aisle-mate on the plan, "You got stuck in the middle. Take the arm rest."</li>
<li>The stranger who complimented my t-shirt.</li>
<li>The gate agent who smiled broadly and thanked every person boarding my early Sunday morning flight.</li>
<li>The person who helped me figure out the card system on my hotel's elevator.</li>
</ul>
<br />
I could add several others, many directed at me and my family. It was an encouraging and affirming. They reminded me of those opening of school scenes.<br />
In the current political climate, many from both ends of the spectrum are putting all their hope in the mid-term elections. Yes, they matter greatly. But the more I experience and learn, the more I believe solutions and meaningful, positive won't be found in elected leaders or systems, though they can help. Not just in politics, but in any complex human endeavor, including schools. Instead, it's up to each individual and the multiple choices we make each day. We have it in us. As in so many other things, we can lead the children lead us. They embody hope.<br />
<br />
<br />Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-67172419286156073632018-08-16T14:59:00.000-05:002018-08-16T14:59:57.015-05:00Powerful Reminder(s) in a Phone Call The last couple of days, I've come to school kind of grumpy. It's fatigue, physical and mental, more than anything. In-service is always an invigorating time, but also draining for all the reasons imaginable. Plus plenty going on away from school, including my older child entering her senior year in college and my younger about to start his first. The prospect of empty nesthood is exciting, but comes with a tinge of sadness.<br />
Today, though, the funk began to lift. I had one of those moments that educators dream about. It brought with it inspiration in the form of key reminders.<br />
Yesterday I'd had a voice mail from a student I taught back in the late 80s. We'd had no contact since then, and she said she wasn't sure I would remember her but she wanted to speak with me for a few minutes. I did recall her quite well. She'd been a very bright, lively kid who I really liked. She just never seemed to get her stuff together. Soon after I left, she flunked out of the school. I had no idea what had become of her.<br />
This morning I called her back. She told me she had been talking with her daughter, who asked her about teachers who mattered. That inspired her to call me. She said she couldn't remember anything from my classes, but she remembered my kindness to her, my belief in her, and everything I did to try to help her, especially having her call me in the evenings to hold her accountable for doing her work. I knew her home life was a wreck, but I learned just how bad on this call.<br />
The beauty is that now she's doing great: married for twenty years, three great kids, has a graduate degree. So perhaps not only great, but better than most, despite how things started. Plus, for me the best of all--and here's where you may get the goose bumps I felt--she's a middle school English teacher. She chooses to work with underprivileged kids. She tells them if they take nothing else away from her class, she wants them to know she loves them.<br />
Thirty years ago I was trying to save this young woman. Now she's become one of my heroes. Of course, heroic tales always come with morals. As we begin another school year, the story reminds us about what we're really teaching. Impressionable young people, ones who may be carrying things they are simply not equipped to handle. Sensitive, trusting souls who make themselves vulnerable to us. It's why no matter how skilled we become in pedagogy or well-versed in curricula, the most powerful thing we can do with any student is forge a relationship. We never know what the lasting lesson may be. Indeed, we may wonder if it really matters. Most of the time, educators do not get to revel in the long-term successes of their students. When we do, it's amazing. Today was one of the most amazing. I wish such an experience for every educator. But even if you don't have one quite so awesome, know your impact.Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-65847155209223316162018-08-08T13:46:00.000-05:002018-08-08T13:46:32.751-05:00Back-to-School Inspiration: A Strengths-Finder Approach to Educational Progress Criticizing schools--or at least aspects of them--is easy. It's one of those subjects about which everyone seems to hold an opinion, usually focused on something that's wrong. Sometimes they have a valid point; sometimes they don't. Among the loudest and most negative can be prominent reform advocates, and something about human nature makes that approach work.<br />
Certainly I've been vocal about some ways I believe education should change, and I can be a bit idealistic, even pollyannaish, about the power of a meaningful education. I also realize my perspective comes from inside that independent school bubble, a lens which certainly skews my perspective. I don't think it lessens the point I hope to make here. Lately I've been wondering about how we sometimes go about trying to improve things.<br />
Typically we snatch onto the latest and greatest and preach about it being transformational. Then we do it again. And again. I suspect that happens for many related reasons. We hear something is broken, and we want it fixed. We're entranced by newness. We want the best for students. We want to believe in the promise.<br />
I still believe in the promise. But I don't believe true, lasting transformation occurs through just one thing or very quickly. Either the change has to burrow into one's soul, or it's already there and needs ways to emerge. Plus any single approach seldom works for everyone at one time, or for anyone at all times.<br />
There may be exceptions, but transformation seems to happen like innovation: assorted bits and pieces come together over time, eventually combining in something new (as explained in Steven Johnson's <i>Where Good Ideas Come From</i>). It's made me wonder if we should be taking sort of a strengths-finder approach to educational progress, working to scale all the promising work being done in schools. That generates positive energy.<br />
With that in mind, here is a list of exciting things which are trending in schools currently. It's what occurs to me as I'm typing, so certainly incomplete. But perhaps you'll feel affirmed and/or inspired by something on it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Project-based learning</li>
<li>Increased concern with student's holistic well-being</li>
<li>Blended learning</li>
<li>Coding and robotics</li>
<li>Schools dropping APs</li>
<li>Colleges eliminating testing requirements</li>
<li>Design thinking</li>
<li>Community gardens and outdoor learning spaces</li>
<li>Flexible learning spaces</li>
<li>Social-emotional learning</li>
<li>Mastery and competency based standards</li>
<li>Real-world connections and internships</li>
<li>Service learning</li>
<li>Alternate/authentic assessment</li>
<li>Brain-based learning</li>
<li>Emphasis on creativity</li>
<li>Wider, deeper understanding and acceptance of diversity</li>
</ul>
<div>
Some of these can have a larger impact more quickly than others. Some naturally work together. The real power, though, lies in the cumulative effect. What also matters greatly, maybe most importantly, are the conversations surrounding them. I hope this may inspire some of your own learning and growth for the year.</div>
<div>
Whichever path you choose, keep in mind the most vital, potentially transformative aspect of being an educator. The lationship with a student. Nothing else works or really matters without that.</div>
<br />
<br />Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-70689141992640906412018-07-24T17:03:00.000-05:002018-07-24T17:03:30.340-05:00Picture of Graduate and Control of Learning Recently I've noticed quite a few comments in <a href="https://twitter.com/DrTonyWagner" target="_blank">Dr. Tony Wagner's Twitter stream</a> in which he is encouraging schools to develop their Portrait of a Graduate (PoG). For the past few months, I've also, without as much focus, seen more and more tweets referencing students' being in control of the learning. Naturally, I've been juxtaposing the two in my thoughts.<br />
While I appreciate the idea behind the calls to grant them more control, I've written in the past that I believe <a href="http://tokeepthingswhole.blogspot.com/2012/07/degrees-of-control.html" target="_blank">students already are in control of their learning, no matter what we may like to think</a>. What teachers can control is creating a certain environment. In doing that, they can help students fulfill one of the most essential qualities in a PoG that really matters--controlling their learning in the right ways. Certainly doing that involves the grasping of some knowledge and developing particular skills. But the key lies in attitude.The qualities necessary include an insatiable curiosity, a skepticism that never disintegrates into cynicism, amazement with the unique, and an optimistic embracing of the possible.<br />
Unfortunately, large segments of society have lost sight of this. It goes much deeper than the rigid, misguided standards and frameworks that drive so much of education, leading to the wrong measures of success. It's how people are exercising the control over their learning. They're thickening the membranes of their filter bubbles. Thus the extremes become even more so, with those who disagree becoming threats rather than potential sources of wisdom. The obvious problems exacerbate themselves.<br />
Of course, one could argue those people are not really learning. I'd agree. With how much is at stake, we need to make sure this ideal drives anything else in a Portrait of the Graduate. So much else of value is at stake.Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-3838251904960630822018-06-28T11:30:00.001-05:002018-06-28T11:30:38.327-05:00Doughnut Learning? Recently I read <a href="https://www.kateraworth.com/" target="_blank"><i>Doughnut Economics</i> by Kate Raworth</a>. While much of the economic theory went over my head, it prompted some thoughts about how the same view of humans which determined economics for hundreds of years has affected how we view learning.<br />
Basically economic theory has been driven by the idea of <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homo_economicus" target="_blank">homo economicus</a></i>. This assumes that humans are rational, linear thinkers who always pursue their optimal interests. We would thus operate per simple patterns of input and output, which aligns with the notion of supply and demand.<br />
Doughnut economics presents a different perspective, one which is fluid and dynamic. Rather than independent, self-interested actors, humans (and really the rest of the ecosystem) interact in a web. Feelings influence us as much as thoughts, and it is not a zero-sum game with distinct winners and losers.<br />
Clearly the former view has influenced much of our education system. It goes beyond the factory model, beyond our utilitarian beliefs, beyond the desire for a return on investment. It does, however, lie at the root of those things. It drives right at how we view people as learners--that learning is a simple matter of measurable cognitive input and output.<br />
We're finally beginning to understand that learning doesn't happen that way. Increased knowledge of the brain has revealed how amazingly diverse we are as learners, based on myriad factors that have shaped our neurological pathways. Among those factors are emotions, previously ignored in educational design. Flow has shown that joyful learning need not--and often isn't--purely utilitarian.<br />
As the world continues to morph, rendering many old models obsolete, education needs to be creating new models of learning so we all--not just students--can thrive. I'm wondering what Doughnut Learning would look like...<br />
<br />Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-1701383203107166732018-05-07T11:50:00.000-05:002018-05-07T11:50:43.906-05:00Autodidactic Leadership Development<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The <a href="https://www.nais.org/magazine/independent-school/spring-2018/" target="_blank">spring 2018 issue of Independent School magazine</a>
focused on leadership. As always, the articles highlighted the excellent work
going on in many schools while prompting thoughts about ways to improve one’s
own school. The story highlighted on the cover is “How Did You Learn to Be a
Leader?” Naturally the question prompted some reflection.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The question
implies a professional development angle—or at least I jump to that conclusion
because of how we often think of adults’ growth in schools. We assign mentors,
talk about training, sit through workshops, attend conferences. Often it’s done
in doses of varying sizes; sometimes it’s a single shot. I think this has been
particularly true when it comes to leadership, particularly because the idea of
distributed leadership is fairly new in most of our cultures. Unless someone
were tapped as having leadership potential and quite intentionally mentored, or
the person went to certain programs, I don’t think they received much leadership
training.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Even for those who
received more extensive leadership training, it is limited. I don’t mean
limited in its effectiveness or potential help. I mean limited in that it’s not
enough. I assert that as one who has benefited greatly from attentive mentors
and quality workshops. I also say this because I’ve come to believe everyone is
ultimately responsible for their own development. Optimal learning requires
some degree of autodidactic impulse.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>If you accept my
premise, you’re likely wondering what are some practices that can enhance one’s
leadership training. I’m going to offer some ideas, but with the caveat that
you need to design an intentional program per your own needs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Observation—Even if you have a fantastic mentor,
that person can teach you only so much because of both human and practical
limitations. To augment the mentoring, you can use other people as quasi-mentors
without their even being aware through observation. Watch people you both
admire and question as leaders. Study where they shine and where they misstep.
Pay attention to not just large moments, but also the little things.</span></li>
<li><o:p> </o:p><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Read—Neurological studies have shown the brain lights
up during reading the same way it does when we dream. That’s fitting, as one of
the main things a leader must do is dream. Reading can help inspire those
dreams through the sort of extensive exposure we cannot gain any other way. In
a more immediate sense, reading allows for another form of mentoring as you
encounter unique situations and people/characters. Also, extend your leadership
reading beyond the typical leadership books. Many are much too simplistic. Instead,
read history, biography, memoir, autobiography, fiction, poetry, social
sciences, hard sciences—anything that is going to extend your learning.</span></li>
<li><o:p> </o:p><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Self-Awareness—We all have our strengths and
weaknesses. But how aware of them are we? How much do we accept them? Work on
them? Leaders need people who will challenge them, whether regarding ideas or
behavior. Professional coaches, good friends, therapists—each can play a vital
role in a leader’s development by prompting deeper reflection about one’s
personal qualities and how they affect relationships on every level. Also, the
point is not to change your essential core. It’s about growing as a person so
you can grow as a leader.</span></li>
<li>Proactivity—You may be given clear opportunities
to develop your leadership. It may be some sort of position, the chance to run
a project, to serve as a peer-evaluator. It could be just about anything. The
key is to take the chance and make the most of it. Even if you have this chance—and
especially if you don’t—it’s vital to be pro-active and seek opportunities to
exercise leadership. Perhaps you see a need and have some ideas on how to
address it. Perhaps you foster greater collaboration among colleagues. Whatever
it is, show that you are committed to helping your institution improve.</li>
</ul>
<!--[if !supportLists]--><o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">
<o:p> </o:p> These are just
some ideas, ones which have served me well. They may or may not help you. Despite
what often seems like popular belief, leadership isn’t limited to a certain
type of person. In fact, studies have shown that often the most effective
leaders for long-term success do not fit the stereotypical image. Effective leadership often comes down to
being a particular type of person in a particular place at a particular time
for a particular purpose, all in alignment.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Finally, no matter
what type of person you are, reflect deeply and honestly about why you want to
lead. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, most leaders feel called in
some regard. The question is why. If it’s about pumping up your ego, think some
more. The best leadership is about some higher meaning and purpose. It’s about moving
towards some ideal. Thus, in a way this entire post becomes somewhat ironic
given its focus on the self. Great leaders learn to shrink themselves so that
others may grow. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<br />Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-76012246350046327142018-04-23T15:19:00.000-05:002018-04-23T15:19:07.031-05:00In Search of Excellence I've stolen the title of this post from the classic Tom Peters work. I've been thinking about this idea because he recently published his fantastic <i>The Excellence Dividend</i>, which pulls together myriad points from his long career. If you've read this blog and followed my Twitter feed, you know my thoughts on the excellence dividend of education are clear: when one's endless learning becomes part of a life with distinct meaning and purpose. I hope, to use Tom's standard, that provokes a bit of a "Wow!" response.<br />
I'm more interested in pondering here why completing that search proves so elusive. Reasons abound, ranging from the pragmatic to the philosophical. I think the latter are the more suppressive ones in that we tend not to think of education in such idealistic terms. Instead, we focus on the utilitarian, the practical. Then the process becomes rather mechanical, overly reliant on systems and measurement. We somewhat de-humanize what should be the most human of endeavors.<br />
Ironically, or perhaps paradoxically, even when people share my philosophical position, true academic excellence becomes even more difficult. It's because we have to cede most of the time-honored forms of control. We have to rethink the markers of short- and long-term success. We have to trust.<br />
But it's even more complicated than that. For an education to be truly responsive, it must evolve continually, responding to the vagaries of human nature and culture. Yes, certain questions and topics possess an eternal quality; yet we must consider them in the light of the emerging world. There lies little value in examining the past without using it to figure out the present and shape the future.<br />
Even then, the challenge remains great because excellence ultimately will mean something different for each individual. It demands the ultimate differentiation. It insists we react, reflect, readjust...over and over and over. It changes as each student changes. It changes as the teacher changes.<br />
At its best, it also remains an ongoing search, a quest for a mythical grail. Certainly it is that noble.Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-67749614465488498902018-04-06T10:47:00.000-05:002018-04-11T15:07:40.107-05:00A Quick Thought on #Leadership During a conversation a few days ago, I was asked to talk about a leader who had influenced me. The question threw me for a moment, mainly because I'm fortunate to have many people I could have cited. I settled on one, and after sharing some qualities and anecdotes, I concluded by saying, "What ultimately has stayed with me was how he carried himself with such an air of integrity."<br />
Yes, I mean integrity in the way we often use the word, meaning ethical, essentially good. But I meant more than that. I also was referring to a sense of wholeness, the way in which the disparate parts of something add up to a distinct and discernable unit true unto itself. That requires a genuineness; it radiates from an inner core.<br />
Meanwhile, I regularly see Tweets about different formulas for leadership, whether in books or workshops or videos. I don't dismiss them at all; in fact, I have tapped into them for my entire career. But they don't work...at least not by themselves. Leadership is not a series of steps to follow. It is not a persona one can throw on like a cloak. All those experiences must be part of continual growth, reflected upon and rejected or internalized gradually as we sculpt ourselves. Becoming a stronger leader does not mean being/becoming a certain type of person. It means becoming the best possible person. Your best self. One others want to follow in some sense.<br />
This essential truth can be lost in our culture, particularly in schools.We can become so caught up in producing the best academic, the best athlete, the best artists, the best student council president--usually per some sharp criteria--that we forget we should be about helping each person develop. That's going to mean different things for each. It also means that each person has the potential to become a leader in some fashion, in some circumstances, if we allow for the possibility.Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-48579748389155655772018-03-23T12:40:00.002-05:002018-03-23T12:40:45.170-05:00Making the Right Choice about Student Choice For the past few years, I keep thinking that I'm going to learn some things about physics. Such as gain some basic understandings. I didn't have to take physics in high school or college, and I'm quite aware of this gap in my knowledge.Sometimes I even feel rather embarrassed about it. After all, I am the head of a school. Yet, despite my best intentions--I've even held copies of <i>Physics for Dummies</i> in bookstores--I haven't pursued this study.<br />
I'm not sure why. Perhaps the motivation isn't strong enough. Perhaps there's too much else to learn. Perhaps other things hold more appeal. Perhaps I fear I won't grasp the material. Most likely it's some combination of all these factors.<br />
At the same time, such a pursuit would fit my preferred way of learning. I've always leaned towards autodidactism. As a young soccer player, I read the few coaching guides available in this country at the time over and over, analyzed broadcasts from Europe on the local PBS affiliates and then ran into the yard to practice new moves, and studied the history of the sport. Whenever I became interested in a topic or certain author, I checked out all the small local library had. In college the syllabi served mainly as springboards for my own exploration. My favorite academic experience was the independent study that led to my senior thesis, during which my advisor encouraged me to dive into any rabbit hole I spotted.<br />
This introductory reflection is a means of moving towards a larger point. It's an issue that I've been struggling with for quite a while, and it was captured in a Tweet in my stream this morning.<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en">
<div dir="ltr" lang="en">
It’s a delicate balance: teaching students mandated content while also developing their skills. How to prioritize when you can't cover everything. <a href="https://t.co/gJwvvJXa6b">https://t.co/gJwvvJXa6b</a> <a href="https://t.co/LogrluWb2R">pic.twitter.com/LogrluWb2R</a></div>
— edutopia (@edutopia) <a href="https://twitter.com/edutopia/status/977172039655149568?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">March 23, 2018</a></blockquote>
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>
The article to which the Tweet refers makes many fine points, but my dilemma reaches further than the content versus skills debate. For me, that's an easy one: emphasize skills. I believe this holds not matter hat the course or age of the student. Things become murkier when you consider the idea of student choice, whether within a course or a full curriculum. I'm certainly no adherent to the dictates of cultural literacy as promoted by the E.D. Hirsch's of the world, and I've constantly called for more student choice. But that choice has to be guided to a certain degree. After all, someone should have realized that a basic grasp of physics is part of being wholly educated. Not necessarily a whole course, but a primer of sorts. As much as I want to give students greater and greater autonomy and thus perhaps thus see more relevance and draw inspiration from their learning, doing so begs questions which give me some pause. When does a student have enough perspective and maturity to make these decisions? What key pieces of knowledge can build the scaffold to facilitate such autonomy? Isn't this more of a pedagogical issue than a curricular issue, in that we need to give much more emphasize on how we often teach things? Is what matters really a debate between content and skills, or should it be more about a mindset regarding learning? While wisdom is what ultimately matters more--and always has, not just in this age of Google--isn't some knowledge (perhaps even common knowledge) worth having in our brains and not just at our fingertips?<br />
Someone reading this, particularly if they've read my other work or heard me speak, may wonder if I'm becoming more of an educational conservative or traditionalist because of the caution expressed in here. But I'm not yelling at any progressives to get off my lawn. Actually, I'm hoping my questions are ones they ask themselves. In doing so, they can better address legitimate concerns and maybe convert some skeptics. Maybe not. No matter what, though, our asking better and harder questions about our work can only befit our students. That must be our choice.Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-10386097070025748512018-03-05T11:52:00.000-06:002018-03-05T11:52:15.610-06:00Off to #NAISAC 2018--A Different Approach The 2018 NAIS Annual Conference begins Wednesday in Atlanta. Every year I write a post about my hopes going into the conference, and they've remained fairly similar for the past few years. But this year I'm taking a different approach to my conference experience. That's a bit ironic and/or coincidental as, while I haven't spent much time in Atlanta, but it was the location of the very first one of these I attended, some time back in the 1980s.<br />
Like any conference, this one depends almost entirely on the people attending and presenting. For me NAIS is usually a great time to catch up with people I've known a long time, perhaps used to work with, whether over a meal or when we happen to bump into each other. I hope some of that still happens.<br />
But my real goal this year is to strengthen some loose connections and make some new ones. Perhaps they will be people I know only through social media; maybe they will be people I know only through reputation or role. It was kind of magical when I met some actual flesh-and-blood folks I knew mainly through Twitter the last couple of years. I've already scheduled time with several folks, and I hope to encounter some others. If I see a familiar name on an ID badge, I may even fight through my shyness and go up to that person.<br />
It feels strange--and rather un-conference-like--to be planning my NAIS experience this way. Usually I've studied the program and struggled with choosing which sessions to attend. Following on Twitter while there, I'll rue missing certain ones. Yet I suspect I will gain much more.Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-27562137171320558342018-02-26T10:41:00.003-06:002018-02-26T10:41:59.558-06:00An Educator's Hopes after #Parkland As a reader of this blog, surely you've been inspired by the teens driving the #NeverAgain movement which has since flourished since the massacre at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High in Parkland, Florida. In the aftermath of such a traumatic experience, these students have displayed incredible grace, respect, intelligence, wisdom, determination, and maturity. Surely any school, especially the more mission-driven among independent schools, would want to claim them as students. In fact, I've wondered about what a fantastic place MSD must be to produce such students.<br />
The students have drawn the admiring support of other students, adults, celebrities, journalists, businesses. Some of that is due to who they are and how they are conducting themselves. Much of it is due to our having finally had enough with school shootings I think it's also snapped our eyes more fully open to what these school shootings--and all the tangential issues connected to them--say about our nation.<br />
As I've watched these kids in amazement, I've also found myself worrying about them. Right now they are surfing along on a crest of adrenaline, which all of the media attention keeps refueling. While it has lasted longer than usual, at some point it will end. What then? Even if it were not to end for a long time, at some point these people--not just the kids, but the adults there--will have to stop long enough to grieve and mourn and recover, likely with ongoing therapeutic assistance. When the overwhelming support becomes more muted, how will they handle the despicable vitriol some were already spewing towards them? I want them to grow into the healthy, passionate, thriving adults they show all the potential of becoming--the adults our culture needs.<br />
What if their movement fails to make significant difference? What if another school massacre happens? (Sadly, I feel as if I should write "when another one happens.") Would that deepen the psycho-spiritual wounds? Will it steel their resolve, or will it burst their optimism? Will it say to these kids that once again the older generations have failed them? While we may feel as if a tide has turned, resolving tough issues in times of extreme rancor is a gargantuan task.<br />
So I hope we remember that these are kids. They are rising to this occasion, partially because they lack the life experience to know that they aren't supposed to be able to make all this happen. That lets them operate with a certain derring-do, but they are going to slip at times. (Yes, they are acting better than many adults.) Meanwhile, are we, in our guilt and desperation, putting too much on them? Yes, follow their leadership; revel in their passion; voice your admiration. But please don't make them into messiahs who are going to resolve the sins of older generations. They don't need that at a time they are determining the destiny of their own generation. We can't abdicate our responsibilities for the past, the present, or the future.<br />
So, yes, I want their movement to work. I want new, effective legislation. I want it not just about guns, but about many things. And it's more than new laws. I want us regain our civility and our virtues. I crave leadership that unites and inspires. I want equity and justice. I hope we can discern the light shining in each person. <br />
Even after all the school shootings since Columbine, kids still believe our world can become better and better and better. If education is really going to matter, we have to support them in those efforts. That's true not just for the Parkland kids. It's true for all kids.<br />
<br />Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-6074859886416914182018-02-20T13:36:00.000-06:002018-02-20T13:36:28.117-06:00Take a Bullet? Throughout most of my career--I began teaching in 1983--the question would have seemed absurd. I don't think it would ever have come up in an education class, and I can't see undergraduates chewing on it during a bull session in the dorm. Perhaps the only place I could have imagined it would have been contemplated is in a philosophy class focused on ethics, one of those topics such as "Is it wrong to steal if your family is starving?"<div>
The question: Would you take a bullet for a student?</div>
<div>
Once again, people who work in education must struggle with that gut-wrenching question as we grieve over yet another school shooting where an adult did just that.</div>
<div>
Is there a right or wrong answer? If there is, it eludes me. At one of the schools where my wife worked, they were told to decide on their answer to this question so they would have the choice made in case the situation ever arose. I doubt that works. We can believe something intellectually, but I'm not sure it would hold in such a terrifying, adrenaline-packed event. Instinct likely would kick in. Plus I think the details of one's one life shift in ways that affect the answer. Before I was married and had children, I probably would have said yes. Once I had children, likely not. Now that they are 18 and 21, well on their way, perhaps. I want to believe that I would. That I could. But I'm not so sure. Do any of these answers make me a lesser person? Would I expect more of another educator for my kids than this? What should we expect? The work, when done right, already wrings plenty of raw emotion out of caring people. Now this former nightmare has become a common reality, so much so that it fades from the headlines more quickly than Columbine did. There was an entire book written about that tragedy; now the media moves on after a few days...until the next one. We drill and train, hoping that it might help, telling our students it's just a drill and they don't need to be scared, knowing they know the truth. Each time we practice, each time the tragedy strikes, it feels even more possible that it could happen to us.</div>
<div>
I don't know how one erases that fear. Arming teachers is not the answer. Even greater, stricter security measures might help, but I don't think it's an answer. We don't want our schools beginning to resemble prisons. Providing resources for how to talk to children about tragedy feels like mere salve on much deeper wounds. With the number of guns already available through various means, I think that only lessens the odds somewhat.The political system seems so gridlocked and self-serving that we can't count on anyone there.</div>
<div>
In the wake of the Parkland shootings, some have argued that "things feel different this time." I agree in some ways. Much of that has to do with the reaction of the students, who have responded with fierce determination to bring about change. It's pictures and videos of gun advocates destroying their weapons. Of course, we've seen various hashtag movements through the years that eventually simply echoed through the vastness of cyberspace. And already some have begun trolling survivors and their family. I've even seen some invoking conspiracy theories. It's all too reminiscent of Sandy Hook--the school shooting which was supposed to be the final straw.</div>
<div>
Meanwhile, when educators should be focused on figuring how to help their students become their best possible selves, we have to think about survival tactics. We have to ask ourselves, Would you take a bullet for a student? Could you? That no longer just seems absurd. It is absurd. And we risk school becoming another performance in the Theater of the Absurd.</div>
<div>
</div>
Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7129899644952196274.post-49680425753039456622018-02-12T13:53:00.001-06:002018-02-12T13:53:43.377-06:00Coherence amid Dissonance We could argue about whether we live in a time of continuous change, discontinuous change, extreme disruption, accelerated change, disequilibrium, volatility...no matter what term we apply, the reality holds. The new normal would seem to demand that we count on nothing as normal. We're having to reconsider most of our assumptions, although perhaps we're not actually acting fast enough. But many feel as if they are adapting as quickly as they can. In schools we're asking questions about all sorts of time-honored practices, many of them the more technical aspects of education, such as curriculum design and assessment.<br />
Lately I've been thinking about a deeper question, one I'm not sure I've seen explored extensively (although I'm certain it has been). From the start of my career, I've heard about the importance of curricular coherence. When I was a curriculum person, I focused on it. Now, I'm struggling with the concept. Indeed, struggling that may lead to this post being anything but coherent.<br />
Before I go any further, I should clarify that I'm not talking about coherence in the traditional scope-and-sequence sense. I've never believed in that for some simple reasons. It assumes that once a teacher presents something, a student has learned it. It fosters anxiety within a heightened pace, the idea being that so much must be "covered" by year's end, a student in a sense "finished." It negates flexibility in response to student needs and interests. It also adds to what may be the difficult part of innovating, which is forgetting what's already in place. Every new idea becomes measured versus what exists.<br />
Somewhat ironically, that ties to the strongest argument for a coherent and firm scope-and sequence. Learning involves, both literally and metaphorically, constructing schema in which new pieces fit onto existing frameworks that create sense. We also have to think about developmental readiness. In its essence, learning means developing a sense of coherence.<br />
Creating a coherent curriculum used to be a fairly simple endeavor, really. Yes, it took time and a certain degree of expertise. Well, simple at least in relative terms. But think about some of the ways things have changed, particularly over the last thirty years, with increasing rapidity. School used to be about content; now it should be about learning skills and conceptual understanding. Success pointed at standardized measures; now it should be about softer things. Closed cultures could focus on a canon; now we should be considering diversity, equity, and inclusion. Paper and pencil were the timeless tools; now we should be harnessing ever-more-powerful technology. The schoolhouse used to be an intellectual sanctuary; now we should be connecting students to the real world. Overall, we have to rethink everything. And then remake everything. Continually.<br />
In such a world, how does one achieve a coherent program? How do students piece things together in a way that works? What holds it all together? Can anything? What should? Does something need to? I think so...but we must think of that in different ways also. It's why we have to be reconsidering not just all the usual minutiae of schooling, but the very essence of our missions and what they now should mean.<br />
Besides, sometimes I wonder who really craves the coherent scope-and-sequence. Perhaps the adults want it more than the students. For us it's a convenience that in many ways makes teaching easier, like the student who wants to know exactly what will be on the test. It provides a degree of certainty, of clear direction, of control. We can delude ourselves with the notion that coverage equates success.<br />
Most schools, especially now, say they want to instill a love of learning for a lifetime (or some similar aspiration). They explain that learning how to learn is the real goal. I don't disagree. But sometimes learning is easier than at other times, particularly when tings have been laid out too clearly and predictably for you. Perhaps the truer--and likely more fun--challenge is discovering how to create one's own coherence when less and less seems to make sense.<br />
Mark Crottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15801446683569160596noreply@blogger.com0