Employee Sketchnotes from Summer Reading

       This past summer our employees chose from a menu of books for their "required" professional reading. The titles people chose were Jessica Lahey's The Gift of Failure, Susan Cain's Quiet; Tony Wagner's Creating Innovators, Sir Ken Robinson's Creative Schools, 's Mahzarin Banaji's Blindspot, Marilee Adams' Teaching That Changes Lives, and Todd Rose's The End of Average. On our first day back people broke into small groups. (Some books had several groups; some one.) I then gave each group one poster-sized sheet of paper. The task: to produce a single-page sketchnote synthesis of their book. You can see all the results below. Once again, I'm blown away by the St. John's people.
       To share and expand the conversation, groups posted their sheets at various points around the school. When they did, another sheet of paper was put up for people to pose thought and questions so that we could expand each group's conversation. Now I invite you to do the same in the comments section of this post.

Whither the Bridgetender?

     I recently began reading Doris Kearns Goodwin's The Bully Pulpit about Theodore Roosevelt, William Taft, and the muckraking journalists of McClure's magazine. Last night one tiny scene jumped out at me. As Ida Tarbell was travelling on the train from Western Pennsylvania to New York, at one point she noticed the bridgetender. This person had a simple role: every time a train crossed the bridge, he was to make sure no coals had flown off the train and could set the wooden bridge on fire.
     This was a job created by a relatively new industry/technology in the form of railroads. But it also was a job that rather quickly became obsolete with other developments such as steel. And while there remain bridgetenders in other ways, such as on some old drawbridges, it's certainly not a job I'd heard of or even thought about before. I'd like to know how many bridgetenders remain in any form.
     Metaphorically, I also wonder who the bridgetenders of today are. To play off that idea further, I also hope we see the purpose of education to help people become not just bridge builders, but also designers of amazing new bridges.

Reflection on Visit to Dallas Public Library

                “It’s nice to see you reading a real book.” It was vacation last week, and I was sprawled on the sofa at home, lost in the harsh South Texas of Cormac McCarthy’s No Country for Old Men.

                If you read this blog regularly or know anything about me, you know that I read a great deal. So my wife wasn’t commenting on the fact I was reading; nor was it a jab at what I usually choose (almost always books, though not often fiction). No, she was referring to the actual presence of a physical book, rather than bits and bytes on my iPad.

                My children are away on splendid adventures, so Sallie and I were heading for three days at the glorious Inn Above Onion Creek near Wimberley, Texas. I was determined to detach as much as possible from school and had notions of not bringing my iPad rather than test my will power. That meant I needed to bring real books. I didn’t want to buy any. So for the first time in a long while I headed for the Dallas Public Library, the downtown central branch.

                The central library is massive, eight stories of various collections and workspaces, along with special exhibits.  I always prepare for such a trip by scanning my reading list, then checking the on-line catalog to see if what I want is in and where to find it. I prepare a slip of paper with my information. Only then do I head for the library and begin my search. Usually that means visiting at least three different floors and asking for help at least twice.

                I went on a Thursday afternoon, and I was struck by how packed the library was with a cross-section of the population. People filled the reading areas, the work tables, the computer stations. Some were shopping in the little used bookstore. I saw people reading newspapers, magazines, books; surfing the Internet; tapping away on laptops. Many seemed engaged in serious work, with piles of materials spread out; several had briefcases on the floor by them. Yes, I suspect many were from the ranks of the homeless, who have made the library a gathering spot for many years. But they were not the majority. Plus I like they could escape the heat in such a way, one certainly better than other possible activities. I’ve never understood the complaints or efforts to deter their presence.

                I found my books and went to check out, only to discover, much to my chagrin, that I still had an outstanding fine of $2.70 from my last visit. I enjoyed the solid heft of the books, the challenge of organizing the different-sized volumes to I could handle them easily. I’ve since made two more trips, and I know I will make more.

                But beyond my personal love of libraries, I found myself pondering something else: what a vital role a library can play in a community. Like frontier towns that used to build an opera house early on to signal their sense of culture, with its library a city signals how much it values the intellectual, individually and collectively. In some way, while being a repository for our pasts, they suggest a faith in our learning to propel us forward. There is something powerful about sharing those valuable resources. So I was sad on one of my visits to see a table set up by the library entrance, with volunteers explaining how cuts have affected the library and asking people to sign a petition.

                I also found myself wondering about schools that have eliminated their libraries or have cut them way back. What message are they sending? I haven’t formed a crystal clear vision of what role libraries need to play in a modern school, although I’m sure it aligns somewhat with what some schools are striving for by renaming (rebranding?) them as learning centers or some such label. Library works just fine for me. It’s a warm word, a cozy word; a word which connotes possibility and exploration. It’s a place to both lose oneself and to discover oneself. I wish I had a library in my home. I’ll always want one in my school.

Ideal Bookshelf--The Leftovers

       In two previous posts, I created some ideal bookshelves—one for educators, and one for leaders. Each had some caveats. But now those are gone, and this bookshelf contains the leftovers—books that I believe all educators and leaders should read, but which didn’t fit neatly into the restrictions of the categories. As you’ll see, most somehow focus on big-picture cultural issues, particularly the incredible changes we are experiencing currently.

       In some ways, a book making this list is an even greater endorsement. It suggests not only the quality of the work, but also its widespread relevance.

       With acknowledgment that a shelf has only so much space in the physical world, in no particular order:

·         Wikinomics: How Mass Collaboration Changes Everything by Don Tapscott. How collaboration is spurring innovation and growth in multiple sectors.

·         Good Work: When Excellence and Ethics Meet by Howard Gardner, Mihlay Csikszentmihalyi, and William Damon. Reminds us of the importance of ethics as pace and competitiveness ramp up.

·         Here Comes Everybody: The Power of Organizing Without Organizations by Clay Shirkey. A great overview on how we’ve shifted from being media consumers to media creators.

·         Where Good Ideas Come From: The Natural History of Innovation by Steven Johnson. Incredibly insightful on both small and great levels.

·         What Technology Wants by Kevin Kelly. Technology as a living force that will continue to evolve. A guide to being prepared and taking full advantage of what’s coming.

·         The Shallows: What the Internet is Doing to Our Brains by Nicholas Carr. Always important to hear all sides of an issue.

·         The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Be careful in choosing the objects of your desire and putting too much faith in them.

·         Moby Dick by Herman Melville. For me, no other novel has so captured all the complexities of human nature and civilization.

·         Walden by Henry David Thoreau. A great reminder about the need to take time for serious reflection about ourselves and our culture. Amazing insights into human nature.

·         Hamlet by William Shakespeare.  But one can be too introspective. Also a strong lesson about keeping our egos under control.

Were I filling these shelves at a different time, I know some of the choices would change. No doubt they are influenced by the ideas running clattering my mind more noisily than others right now. Also, I’ve tried to consider wider relevance and not just personal appeal. So I don’t include the wonderful novel I just read. Similarly, I wanted to stay away from works that have a definite theology or political perspective.

The exercise was fun, and perhaps you gained some ideas for summer reading or to add to your stack. I’d love to know what you think of the choices.

Ideal Bookshelf for School Leaders

                In my previous post, I explained how I was inspired to create some ideal bookshelves—one for educators, and one for leadership. If you didn’t see it, you can go here. Also, I’ll briefly explain the caveats (more fully done on previous post).

I believe educators and leaders should read widely and deeply. All sources can help one grow in both realms. But I’m going to limit myself to books specifically focused on the topic, albeit a bit more loosely in some cases.  Rather than go into any real depth about a book, I simply will make a general comment or two about why the book belongs on my ideal shelf. I hope that will encourage others to read it for themselves and feel the same power.

                Let’s look at the shelf for leadership in schools:

·         Seven Secrets of the Savvy School Leader: Surviving and Thriving by Robert Evans. He knows schools and the people in them.

·         Servant Leadership: A Journey into the Nature of Legitimate Power and Greatness by Robert Greenleaf. The greatest leadership manifests itself in serving others rather than ourselves. This also reminds us that education is a service, not a product, industry.

·         The Little Big Things by Tom Peters. A passionate reminder that much of leadership depends on one’s small, daily actions.

·         Primal Leadership: Learning to Lead with Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Goleman. Education is such an intense, very human endeavor that EQ comes to the forefront all the time.

·         Leading in a Culture of Change by Michael Fullan. Rather than providing a pedantic formula, this book provides sudden insights tied to real situations.

·         Leading Change by John Kotter. Normally I dislike formulaic approaches to anything, but following the eight steps in here has served me well.

·         Good to Great: Why Some Companies Make the Leap…and Others Don’t  by Jim Collins. Perhaps a clichéd choice, but Collins’ work resonates loudly. Just this week I find myself drawing heavily on it for a presentation.

·         Made to Stick: Why Some Ideas Survive and Others Die by Chip Heath and Dan Heath. In very concrete fashion, this book presents some wonderful tips for effective communication.

·         Truman by David McCullough. Truman’s story is a terrific one of persistence in the face of adversityand even contempt

·         Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln by Doris Kearns Goodwin.  Schools are full of strong-willed folks with loads of opinions. Lincoln shows how to value the dissent and use it to strengthen rather than break apart.

Thoughts? Additions?

Ideal Bookshelf for Educators

                Recently, while wandering through a local Barnes and Noble, I stumbled upon a fascinating, beautiful  book. The title is My Ideal Bookshelf.[1] The editor asked various people—mainly artists of all sorts and writers of various genres—to imagine what books would comprise their ideal bookshelf. It’s also has lovely illustrations of the books, either lined up neatly or in random, sometimes jumbled stacks.[2] Of course, I began thinking about what books I would choose. Well, when it comes to books, I don’t like limits imposed upon me. We haves books all over the house; my iPad Kindle app is like a five-shelf bookcase by itself; and my wish list on Amazon keeps growing.

                Because I like to believe one can have it all, I’m not going to present my ideal single shelf here. Instead, I’m planning two posts, of which this will be the first. It’s my ideal bookshelf for educators. Next will be my ideal bookshelf on leadership. Then I might do a third post on books that have really impacted me but didn’t fit on those first two shelves.

                Before I proceed, I need to make a few caveats. I believe educators and leaders should read widely and deeply. All sources can help one grow in both realms. But I’m going to limit myself to books specifically focused on the topic, albeit a bit more loosely in some cases. Therefore, you won’t see Pink’s Drive, for example, in the post on education even though teachers could learn a great deal about motivation from it. Also, I don’t select books that deal primarily with nuts and bolts. Instead, I focus on bigger picture works. Wiggin’s Understanding By Design thus doesn’t appear. Finally, I’m not going to go into any real depth about a book. I simply will make a general comment or two about why the book belongs on my ideal shelf. I hope that will encourage others to read it for themselves and feel the same power.

                Let’s look at the shelf:

·         Experience and Education by John Dewey. It’s a seminal work, and the essential message is timeless. In some ways we’re realizing now just how on target Dewey was.

·         The Courage to Teach: Exploring the Inner Landscape of a Teacher’s Life by Parker Palmer. The best educators see their work as full of meaning and purpose, upon which they reflect quite intentionally. This work helps one understand that.

·         A Letter to Teachers: Reflections of Schooling and the Art of Teaching by Vito Perrone. An urgent call, based on his years of experience, to keep in mind what really matters about education.

·         Horace’s Compromise by Ted Sizer. This classic book does a very nice job of helping clarify what choices we should make when deciding what and how to teach.

·         The Passionate Teacher by Robert Fried. This is the book that inspired me to think of a class as a giant single idea rather than a bunch of discrete units. It flipped my approach in many ways.

·         The Schools our Children Deserve: Moving Beyond Traditional Classrooms and Tougher Standards by Alfie Kohn. He’s polarizing in many ways, but he’s passionate and insightful and definitely worth reading, whether one agrees or not.

·         Mindset: The New Psychology of Success by Carol Dweck. Essential lessons about how some of our traditional education practices can enhance or hinder how students perceive themselves. And how we see them.

·         Intellectual Character: What It Is, How to Get It, and Why It Matters by Ron Ritchhart. This book makes one think about intelligence in a new way, along with challenging the goals of a traditional education.

·         How People Learn: Brain, Mind, Experience and School by National Research Council.  An amazing amount of cutting-edge research complied into one work.

·         The Book of Learning and Forgetting by Frank Smith. This simply written book contrasts two views of learning: work versus a fun/social process.

·         Five Minds for the Future by Howard Gardner. I think this is more important to read than his work on multiple intelligences because this provides a strong vision for what students will need in the future.

·         The Global Achievement Gap by Tony Wagner. There are plenty of books on “21^st century learning,” but I think Wagner’s stands out as less trendy.

I’m sure as soon as I post, I will think of some other titles I should have included. But I won’t go back and change it. What did I miss that you would want on your ideal bookshelf for educators?

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[1] This experience reminded me of the wonderful serendipity of browsing through a bookstore with no particular purpose, something I no longer do as frequently since moving entirely to e-books. Clicking links just doesn’t have the same feel. I love the incredible inventory of Amazon, but I hope bricks-and-mortar bookstores never disappear.

[2] While thinking about this post, I had a sad realization. Book covers are often wonderfully designed, and the mosaic of spines on a shelf can be rather dazzling. But with e-readers, we no longer know what the spine looks like. Also, I wanted to create my own images but lacked the patience to produce either copies or originals.

New Reading Plan--Courting Serendipity

Last February I posted “On Reading,” in which I reflected on my love of reading and how it fuels me. I was prompted to write it because I took a respite from my usual reading regime and read a book strictly because I wanted to. Currently, almost everything I read is somehow tied to work. In some ways that is okay. I am fortunate to be a person whose natural interests and passions align almost perfectly with my career. There is, however, a problem: my mind thus seldom takes a break.  While the reading re-energizes, it also can deplete me over time.  I also feel the need to keep up with many, many different sources of information to help move my school forward. The question becomes, as my former board president used to encourage me, “How do I meter myself?”

To do that I’m going to try a new reading regimen. I call it “One and One.” I am going to alternate my reading choices, at least when it comes to books. (Blogs and articles will remain as they are now.) First I will read one that I feel is a must-dofor school. Then I will read a title that I simply want to read. For example, two days ago I completed Steven Johnson’s incredible Future Perfect, which I believe has enormous implications for the increasingly connected lives that our students will be leading. Last week I began Dave Eggers’ stirring Zeitoun about a Syrian immigrant in New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina. My daughter and wife both urged me to read it because of all my Louisiana connections, but I had left it far down the list. “Someday, when I have time,” I figured. I’m loving it.

I’ve been pondering this new plan for a while, and I feel good about it. Still, the tension exists between professional obligation and personal maintenance/fulfillment. A degree of guilt also lingers, I suppose.  I became convinced to implement it upon reading a post on the Fast Company blog titled  “How to Hack an ‘A-Ha!’ Moment.”  Consider the following long excerpt:

Because we can't beat the brain's hardwiring, we've got to train it by routinely introducing new information, people, settings, sensations, and experiences in order to expand our databank of memories. In this way, we create more flexible and varied mental models that our brains can use to fill in the blanks of the future. With a richer store of memories, we are able to imagine a vast range of possibilities, appreciate the web of factors affecting a given issue, and make more of the associative links that prompt consideration of different scenarios. This is your best defense against--and preparation for--unforeseen events and opportunities that will likely impact your business.

Whether you're looking for the next big idea or a fresh perspective, solving an innovation challenge, or hunting for an emerging technology, market, or business model to invest in, it is absolutely essential that you begin by immersing yourself in new material. New research, new disciplines, new sources, new experiences, new inputs, new approaches. It's this simple: To have an authentically new idea, you must begin with new inputs. If you don't, you can--truly--do no better than produce another version of what you already know.

The big payoff is what happens when new information collides with established memories. As your brain tries to make sense of the incoming data, it looks around for what's familiar, linking the new to the old. And suddenly your perspective changes: That's the moment of "Aha! I've never seen it that way before!" Indeed you haven't. Without the new input and the new synaptic connections it stimulates, there's no physical way that you could have seen it that way before.

Suddenly I had not only permission to enact my new plan, but a legitimate rationale. While so much of the reading I was doing certainly extended my thinking, it was not necessarily providing the sort of collision described above. Theoretically, as I cast a wider net, that new input will increase the chances of really unique and thus more powerful moments of serendipity occurring. For example, reading Zeitoun, I am having some new insights regarding leadership, or at least a new way of helping to explain it. This notion has me thinking even more about how the Baran Web referenced in Future Perfect works not just as a social network but as a form of enlarged understanding. Aha moment, indeed!           
           
             All this, of course, led me to think about curriculum and learning and objectives. In the above passage, think of how the memories work: they function like a complex framework into which we fit new learning of any sort. In a sense, then, our objective should be to create a Baran Web as tightly woven with as many nodes as possible. This increases the chance of connectivity and relevance in the learning process. Thus, the goals of a program should focus on larger understandings and the abilities necessary to both extend and deepen them. It's highly personal.

           

           This cannot happen willy-nilly, based strictly on student interests. Were that the case, some of our current eighth graders might study nothing other than baseball. Consider a recent example in which a father argued his high school son should not have to study chemistry because he has no interest in the subject. I won't argue that everyone needs to take chemistry; in fact, I've advocated for an integrated science approach as best for some students. However, I contend very strongly that all students should develop a strong grasp of basic scientific principles, some of them right from chemistry.

            If we accept that premise, then we need to rethink the traditional practice of organizing curricula by content and even the departmental structure. Compared to how learning really works for all but academic specialists, both these are artifices, based more on convenience than any actuality. They are, however, so firmly entrenched culturally that we have difficulty conceiving of it working any other way. So, to apply the notion from the long excerpt, we must continue to introduce and consider loads of new input. Perhaps then we will have the crucial "Aha!" moment.

            Certainly I hope my new “One and One” reading plan leads to several such epiphanies. So I would appreciate any and all suggestions drawn from the hither and yon of your learning.

Reading, Writing, Guilt, Fear

                I’m trying to decide if I should feel guilty about a recent development in my reading habits. For about the past year, I’ve noticed myself doing more of two things. I very seldom used to simply skim things, trying to pull out only the essential gist. Now I do so quite regularly. That one doesn’t trouble me too much; in fact, it’s probably a pretty essential skill in developing better filters as the information cascades over us faster and faster. The other development nags at me. If I am not enjoying a book, I find myself racing through it so I can finish. Sometimes, I am loath to admit, I don’t even bother finishing.

                Many people may see this as no big deal. I also could rationalize this in many ways. I’m busier than ever, and there is more to choose from than ever, so I need to be more selective. After all, with so many books and so little time, we have to be choosy. Plus there are now blogs and Twitter streams to follow, websites to browse, and on-line reviews to check before deciding to purchase anything. I wish I could argue that as my mind has developed, I have become much more discerning as a critic. I’m certainly quicker to say something is not very good and thus not worth my time.

                That never used to happen. I had a personal rule: if I started a book, I was going to finish it. Why? Out of respect for the author.

                Like many young people who grew up reading a great deal and later majored in English, I imagined myself becoming a writer. I would even call myself a “writer” in certain circumstances. And I was writing, sort of. Fragments of stories, even a few finished short tales. I had notebooks full of ideas and character sketches. I published a few brief reviews of things. For my classes I wrote very creative grammar tests and even a textbook. Later on I published a few longer articles through the years. Now I try mightily to keep this blog evolving in interesting ways.

                But to write a book…that strikes me as so incredibly daunting. I’ve been told that this blog has the seeds of a book, and that may be true; I can’t see it. The sustained effort, the massive combination of breadth and depth, the linear development, the stylistic fine-tuning—these things and so much more have to go into it. As legendary sportswriter Red Smith said in response to a question about the demands of producing a daily column: “Writing is easy. You just slice open a vein and bleed.”

                So that’s where my guilt comes in. I don’t feel right being overly critical, literally dismissive, of someone who does something that I can’t see myself ever accomplishing. I’ve dreamed about it, thought about it, made tentative stabs at it…but I’ve never truly gone for it. The reasons are numerous, and they share a common denominator—fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of starvation. Fear of discovering a lack of talent. All part of our lizard brain.

                As a school leader, an educator, and a parent, I think one of the most crucial things I can do is try to help people confront fear and move through it. True growth requires genuine and honest introspection, and that demands courage. The criticism—bad and good—must, to a degree, turn inward.

                One reason I like writing this blog is because I feel a twinge of fear about each post. But I have to put myself out there. It somewhat justifies my criticism of some writers.  And perhaps someday I can write that book; maybe the seeds in the blog will sprout and blossom. The idea still scares me, but I have hope.

Props to Tony Wagner

            Last night I started to read Tony Wagner’s Creating Innovators: The Making of Young People Who Will Change the World. I am not yet far enough into it to give a fair review, but I have to salute Wagner right away.

          In November 2010 I posted a piece titled “Reading--By Book or By Nook or By...?”. It was some musing on the future of the book and what it may become.

                With the encouragement and work of Robert Compton, Wagner’s book contains qr codes and hyperlinks that lead to videos which augment the text. If you are reading the hardback version, for instance, you can scan a code with your smartphone and watch a video. On an ereader, you can follow the links or purchase a version with the videos embedded. At least so far, the videos don’t really add that much depth, but it’s still quite cool and suggests great possibilities.

                I’ve been to plenty of conferences and presentations about innovation and teamwork and cooperative learning and brain-based, active learning and Socratic dialogue…all presented via the traditional lecture.

                We will see how this affects the reading experience. No matter what, Wagner deserves credit for practicing what he preaches.

Do Students Ever Get to Blog in Their Underwear?

I really enjoy the work of Hugh MacLeod, whose great cartoons you can see at http://gapingvoid.com/. His work is a wonderful mix of skepticism and inspiration. He began his career by drawing his cartoons on the back of business cards while sitting at a bar. He built his business through his blog, and now he sells his work for high prices and produces best-selling business books. In his latest book, Freedom is Blogging in Your Underwear, he talks about his absolute love of blogging. Hugh's tale is one of those anyone-can-make-it stories, provided you have some talent, follow your passion, work really hard, and take advantages of the tools and opportunities available.

Reading the book—and it takes just about half an hour—make me reflect upon my own blogging. I certainly feel a higher degree of freedom than I do in other writing, and that freedom has grown the more I post. I write a bit more informally; I don’t pay that much attention to structure; I don’t do much pre-writing; I certainly don’t do much editing or polishing.  (I’ve looked back at some pieces and cringed at certain bits and pieces of prose.) In fact, while I often have done some reflecting before I begin a post, I often don’t know exactly where it’s going to go. The process becomes a bit more exploratory than, say, an academic paper. It also feels more personal, as if I really am leaving some clues about myself. I also know that blogging has helped me tremendously as a professional. So in many ways I understand exactly what Hugh is saying.

But I can’t say that I feel total freedom in my blogging. While the blog is mine, it’s also the blog of the head of St. John’s Episcopal School. Whenever I write for an audience, I cannot forget that awesome responsibility. It comes with certain expectations, and people may parse things particularly carefully. To some extent, I feel as if each reader may give every piece a grade.

And that gnawing feeling leads me to wonder about student writing. As a former English teacher, I’ve thought about a great deal about the process of writing instruction, particularly some time-honored practices. I’m not sure that many of them move students to the ultimate goal of written communication.

As an example, let’s take the five-paragraph essay. I haven’t seen many, if any quality pieces from published writers that follow this formula. After all, not many ideas lend themselves to such a simplistic formula. And while writers want to engage the audience, this structure almost insults the reader. It’s as if the writer is saying at the end, “I know I already told you what I was going to tell you, and then I actually told, but now I’m telling you again, just in case you’re too stupid to have gotten it.”

Writing teacher have argued with me that the five-paragraph method is necessary as a pace to begin. Maybe…but here’s the problem with that. If a developing writer follows the recipe and receives positive feedback—the high grade—then he or she grows unwilling to deviate. It leads to other pedantic questions such as “How long does this need to be?” Overly rigid rubrics have the same effect. Students can end up focusing far too much on following the guidelines and rules and point values that they end up forgetting to focus on saying something worthwhile. Teachers can fall into the same trap as they assess the student writing. Similarly, I’m not sure why teachers feel they must always assign topics. I liked to allow students to come up with their own topics, as I learned more in the process.

That brings me back to that ultimate goal, what I see as the virtuous cycle powered by the relationship between writer and reader. A cartoon by Hugh MacLeod, the one I have as my desktop background, captures it perfectly:

Celebrate!

                One of my favorite parts of soccer is not just a goal, but the wonderful celebration that almost always ensues. It’s a natural, joyous reaction to a rare event. Even the greatest scorers still revel in the moment, whether it’s a simple tap-in or a smashing volley.

                Contrast to the advice often given by many American football coaches: “When you score a touchdown, act like you’ve been there before.” And the NFL has clamped down on “excessive” celebrating.

                I remember one of the first high school teams I coached. The program was new, so we weren’t very good and didn’t score much. When we did, at first the players didn’t really celebrate. I encouraged them to; in fact, we even practiced celebrating during training sessions. In games they began to celebrate wildly when scoring, and I believe it increased their motivation. I have to think it contributed to the steady improvement of the program.

                Why adopt a posture that smacks of ennui? It saps vitality, mocks genuine curiosity, stymies innovation, and breeds ingratitude. It does the same to the people around you.

Recently I read of two incidents which, while extreme, show just how harmful such an attitude can be. In the first, a man gave $1K a week to a certain charity for a year. In the second, a man gave a non-profit a $500K gift. In both cases, no one said thank you. The first man stopped giving, and the second withdrew his pledge for another $250K. Who knows how much the bad PR cost them? I trust it also cost them loads of self-respect.

I hope I never become so blasé or jaded that I don’t celebrate reaching any of my goals and that I always include the teammates who set me up for success.

While you think about that, enjoy this video of goal celebrations performed by Stjarnan FC from Iceland. These players know how to do it!

On Reading

"So many books, so little time..."

          -- t-shirt from Vassar bookstore

     During the past few days I have reconnected with a treasured friend. Reading. More specifically, reading for pleasure. Actually, that's not really specific enough, for I almost always enjoy reading. Reading for me.
     I read a great deal. Just yesterday, two incidents reminded me of just how much I read. Someone said she has stopped sending me recommendations because I seem already to have read whatever she sends me. Then I mentioned something I had read, and someone in the room said, "Don't you ever sleep?" (Probably not enough.) I have had my Kindle for about a year, and it has eight pages of titles. I don't actually download a book until i am ready to read it. Plus my wish list on Amazon keeps growing. We have overflowing bookcases in almost every room of the house; my office at school has two. In fact, I bought the Kindle to save money and space. The habit isn't limited to books. The list of blogs I try to follow in my aggregator keeps lengthening. I mainly skim those unless something really grabs me, but it still involves some reading. Then there are all the things I wish I had the time and energy to read.
     But here's the thing. For the last several years, just about everything I've read somehow has been primarily for work. Since I am passionate about my work and find it fascinating, I really don't mind this.  The reading is still quite pleasurable.
     Last Sunday, however, an article in the newspaper inspired to decide my next book would be just for me. I wanted to read it right away. It is Susan Cain's Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking.
     As a raging introvert, I am naturally drawn to reading. It's not that introverts are shy and/or anti-social, ready to run for a hermitage when an evite pings into the inbox. We actually really like engaging with people, particularly small groups in deep conversation. We even can handle big, noisy parties...for a while. Then we have to retreat. In many ways it comes down to how one draws his or her energy, and what drains it. Introverts devour ideas and reflection and solitude like Popeye downs spinach.
     Along with my innate tendencies, my parents fostered my love of reading in a perfect blend of nature and nurture. Early on I celebrated over and over the triumph of Yurtle the Turtle and craved a dish of green eggs and ham. Once I could read more than picture books, I loved a volume about great athletes, with dramatic photos and tales of record-setting feats. A trip to the New Rochelle library always was paired with time at the adjacent park. When we moved to Bedford Village, the library was a converted colonial home, full of small rooms and nooks. I slowly worked my way through the collection, and I recall my great pride when I began selecting from the adult side. Later I was delighted to discover The Remarkable Little Bookstore in Westport, which had the same sort of set-up. (Alas, it was an early victim of the invasion of the big box stores.) When I first moved to Dallas in 1990, the old flagship Half-Price Books on NW Highway, with its uneven floors and random shelves, felt like returning home. And home, besides the library trips, was where my parents modeled a love of reading. Most nights Mom had a mystery novel; Dad, a tale of espionage or a historical work of some sort. I remember how even as my father lay dying of cancer that had eaten into his brain, he kept reading. He wanted to keep learning all he could.
     My parents did many things right. Among them, helping me love reading is one for which I am particularly grateful. Now, as an educator, I consider it perhaps the most important intellectual habit parents and teacher must nurture. Think of it as follows:
     Open the cover of a book or flip on an e-reader. Voila! That easily you tap into the most elementary form of access to learning. Ideas, exposure, information, data, opposition, affirmation, expansion, connection--all this and more can happen when you really engage with the written word. I still find it utterly amazing how various combinations of 26 letters (in English) can lead to an endless variety of writing, each piece capable of taking us someplace different. Thus, while reading provides simple access, it also is remarkably complex. In fact, neurological studies have revealed that the only time the brain is more active than when we read is when we dream. That's not surprising. After all, the two are highly similar activities. Reading thus provides mental exercise, be it a series of short sprints or a grueling marathon through the world of ideas. We now know that intelligence is not fixed and that we can keep rewiring and strengthening synapses throughout our lives. 
     Reading is a party for we introverts; and, if they don't already attend, I invite any extroverts to drop by, at least for a little while. We may be at opposite ends on the Myers-Briggs scale, but it's a middle ground where we both can find plenty of what everyone needs. To those of you already in on the fun, I'd love some suggestions.

Some Thinking about Thinking

     During the recent break I started to read Daniel Kahneman's Thinking, Fast and Slow. The book had come highly recommended, and I used to teach a course on ways of knowing. Started, but didn't finish. The book was disappointing mainly because of how it was presented: each chapter followed the same basic pattern with a slightly different focus. However, the book's primary thesis holds some important implications for education.

     Kahneman contends that our thought patterns operate in two ways--System 1 and System 2. System 1 consists of our automatic, almost instinctual reactions to things. They are often based on prior knowledge, assumptions, things we take for granted. System 2 involves deeper thinking; it is more reflective and analytical. Not surprisingly, Kahneman contends that we operate mainly per System 1. He says that this occurs in large part because we are intellectually lazy. But there are other reasons. Heuristics cause us to see things in certain ways. For example, the way information is presented can "anchor" us and influence how we respond. Other heuristics include availability, emotion, risk, sample size. We also have a poor grasp of statistics. I would add that we are simply busy, we want quick answers, and we haven't really been trained to think deeply.

     Therein lies the challenge for schools. Too many of our current systems do not foster System 2 thinking. We race kids through curricula, through multiple classes each day, through plenty of extras both inside and outside of school. Assessment practices don't lend themselves neatly to System 2 thinking. It's simply much messier; it’s essentially non-measurable. Surely you can expand on the brief generalizations in this paragraph. I suspect you could draw upon much of your own experience in schools.

     The ultimate conundrum is that much of our educational practice is, in itself, based on System 1 thinking. Besides human nature when it comes to change, our practices are based on many long-standing notions that function as heuristics. The ways we organize schools, how content drives curricula, the motivational devices, grading practices, the role of the teacher--the list could go on and on, capturing traditional notions of education which seem inherently true. After all, it's the way we've always done it. And it worked well enough for us, didn't it? That question is rhetorical. If you answered yes, Kahneman could make you rethink that. The answer might be still be well enough...but not as well as it could have.

     In what serves as an interesting parallel, I came across this piece on the training methods of the Standard Liege Football [Soccer] Club from Belgium. Their coach uses the latest research from neuroscience as part of the players' individual and group training regimens. His goal: to help the players become better thinkers on the field. He wants them to be able to think as quickly as they can perform physically. To accomplish this, he has had to reconsider the entire way practices are organized, with a greater focus on the geometry of the game, among other points. The method also places greater emphasis on small-sided games rather than drill work and full scrimmages. This allows the players to practices their skills in more realistic context and to see the relevance more immediately. Throughout the article are ideas that resonate with any forward-thinking educator.

     There is another key, unstated point. As much as I support such changes in pedagogy, if we want to think deeply and help kids to learn to do the same, we have to make time and space for it. It's vital--in the most literal, life-sustaining sense--for young people. And don't just take my word for it. Read this article from salon.com: "Why Kids Need Solitude." I think the points hold for everyone, not just kids.

     Now, take some time and think about all this, fast and slow.

    

Thank you, David Perkins

                Recently I vented my mock indignation about the title of David Perkins’ latest book, Making Learning Whole. I promised to post on it again after I had read the book. I recently finished it, and I have one overall reaction I want to emphasize:

Read this book!

It’s an important book, one that should be an integral part of any conversation about education. Perkins mixes idealism and practicality, theory and reality, with plenty of excellent true-life examples blended in. The essential idea is that we learn best when we are doing so in a holistic, integrated, natural fashion. The metaphor Perkins uses throughout—broken into seven categories—is baseball. You can quickly see how apt the metaphor is, and it’s easy to substitute many other experiences.

                I found myself nodding and notating more in this book than I had in many years. Since you will, of course, be reading it, I don’t want to give too much away. But I’ll gloss over a few of my favorite parts:

·         Every section ends with a great set of prompts that begin “I wonder…” They force reflection on the ideas from the chapter. I could see a teacher reading the chapter and then journaling, then adding to an entry as ideas arose.

·         Perkins’ coining of the term elementitis to capture the piecemeal approach to education, which leads to “an informational backdrop rather than an improving and enlightening body of understanding” (Kindle edition, loc 252).

·         His argument that, unlike the irrelevance students often complain of, that education as playing the whole game “gives the enterprise more meaning” (302).

·         The contention that the “real criterion of understanding has to be performance” (964).

·         The vision that, instead of individual work being so dominant, students engage in “extreme team learning” (3247).

·         His notion of education resorting to a “hearts-and-mind” (1600) approach. I simply can’t capture it in a bullet point.

I know I’m giving such a positive review because I’m a member of the choir . But I’m also trying to be gracious. I already said I was mad about the title. Now I’m neon-green-eyed with jealousy that I didn’t write this book.

How Dare David Perkins!

Here I am, posting all year on an education blog called To Keep Things Whole—and one of the hot education books on people’s summer reading lists is David Perkins’ Making Learning Whole: How Seven Principles of Teaching Can Transform Education. Totally opposing my thoughts, is he?

I’m faking the outrage, of course. (Should I have used mockery tags?) I’m actually quite a fan of Perkins, and I loved his book Smart Schools: Better Thinking and Learning for Every Child. I suspect I’ll find many more similarities than differences in our most recent writing. Plus, as co-director of Harvard University’s Project Zero, where some of the real cutting edge thinking is going on, he certainly has earned the right to call his book whatever the heck he pleases. Perkins is one of the educational thinkers to whom people should pay attention. All those reasons are why I’ve just downloaded Making Learning Whole to my Kindle.

Still, the difference in title raises an essential point. Perkins’ title suggests that we have to take discrete parts and unify them.  My contention is that learning begins as a naturally holistic activity, only that too much of education breaks it up in convenient but artificial fashion.

I’m going to begin reading it today, and I’ll report back soon. In the meantime, your thoughts?

Reading--By Book or By Nook or By...?

The book is perhaps the quintessential symbol of learning. For that reason, I find it particularly fascinating how technology is changing the reading experience. Already there is evidence that the near-constant staring into screens is slowly flattening people’s retinas. The layout on a typical webpage forces a different flow than words on a page do. I haven’t yet purchased an e-reader, mainly because I like to mark up books in ways those devices don’t yet allow. I’m sure I’ll get one eventually. And the devices don’t seem that far removed from our traditional notion of a text.

But now IDEO, perhaps the world’s leading innovative design company, has been developing prototypes for the future of the book. This video will give you a sneak peek at three versions. I’m fascinated by the concepts and possibilities raised by these models. At the same time, just as the book symbolizes learning –and, by extension, school—I wonder how these new models grate against our long-standing paradigms of the educational process.

In these future books, the reading process no longer occurs per the simple left-to-right, down-the-page pattern. Instead, the reader has to become much more active and engaged to reap the full benefits of the experience. She will have to decide when she needs more information; he will have to determine which path of reasoning to follow. It becomes a cyber-version of the choose-your-own adventure books. We first saw movement in this direction with the advent of hyperfiction. But in both those forms, the author still retained ultimate control of the text. In these new models, the author potentially cedes nearly all control. What does this mean for the notions of authority, originality, copyright, and intellectual property? Does a book merely become a microcosm of the web?

It’s also a world far removed from the structures of education. While many schools are placing greater emphasis on critical thinking and habits of mind, they continue to organize themselves per the long-standing factory model. We have blocks of time—class periods, instructional days, units, grade levels, divisions—through which we move kids in linear fashion and thus measure their progress and, we hope, their learning. It’s just like reading an old-fashioned book.

But I’d argue that we need to embrace the new form of book as our symbol. That’s not because I like to be on the leading, bleeding edge. It’s because of that new book being more truly representative of how the brain functions and thus how people really learn.