Too Much, Too Soon

       For whatever reason, much of what I've been noticing in the area of educational reform has been falling largely into the same basic model, albeit with some different flavors. (Surely the Baader-Meinhoff phenomenon in action after my last post.) Here's the basic idea: to keep kids engaged and improve education, increase the demands. Frequently this means more AP courses at younger grades, with pre-AP tracks starting in middle school. If not AP, then some sort of dual-credit program. However it's done, the prevailing notion is to increase what passes for rigor.

       I could go on for quite a while on my problems with this approach. In fact, that theme directly and indirectly runs throughout this blog. So I won't. Instead, I'll offer an analogy.

        At increasing speed for the past two decades, highly competitive sports programs have extended their reach into younger and younger age kids. These kids are asked to specialize in the sport; and they undergo longer, more frequent, and more physically demanding training. They--and their families--often do so to pursue visions of long-term and glorious success, i.e. scholarships and even professional contracts. But think for just a moment about how many athletes have even the slightest shot at those levels, let alone make it. For most it's fantasy.

       It's a sadder reality that we've since as this trend has emerged. We see a significantly higher percentage of young people suffering injuries, some of them quite serious. Some don't develop their all-around athleticism. Many become burned out in their early teens. Overall, I have to believe the damage outweighs the gains. All this happens because young people are being forced into developmentally inappropriate situations.

        It hasn't worked in sports for the overwhelming majority. Why would we expect anything different in academics?

Hmmmm. Really? Too much innovation?

One could actually argue that the social sector is rife with too much innovation. Each day a new “silver bullet” seems to emerge that will somehow solve all our challenges. What we really need is to be more informed about where we innovate and to what end. (Tom Vander Ark, Smart Cities ThatWork for Everyone: 7 Keys to Education and Employment, Loc 2522)

                Hmmmm. Really? Too  much innovation? I know I’m providing a snippet out of context. Surely that’s why this passage jumped out at me in a book I eventually found myself skimming rather than truly reading. So bear with me as I try to make some sense of this, which I’ve been trying to do for a few days now.

                On some level I get it. In fact, a couple of the points could be lifted right from previous posts on this blog or from presentations I’ve made. I’ve referred several times to the silver bullet thinking that seems to be inherent to education reformers’ thinking. I think it’s a result of the author’s second point, which is that we really lack a clear north star by which we’re orienting our efforts. Just think about some of the debates about the basic purpose of education. Is it life preparatory or college preparatory or job preparatory or all of these or none of these and actually something else? Even if you manage to reach some consensus on that topic, chaos can ensure about what it actually means in terms of implementation. We’ve all been through some curriculum skirmishes, if not outright wars. Both of these notions tie to another concern I’ve expressed: those schools which grab quickly onto any shiny new idea as the thing so rapidly that you can begin to wonder who they are at their very core.

                While I can see some validity to Vander Ark's claim, I’m still perplexed. Let’s put aside the fact that the book has basically outlines all sorts of “innovative” (yes, not the quotation marks; I’ll be coming back to this). It’s only now, after however long, that we’re beginning to see schools that look any different than they have for decades. I’m not talking about the outliers, those places which always have done things differently. I’m talking about those based on the assembly line model; in other words, the overwhelming majority. Even where we see new practices within them, they retain many of the same characteristics schools always have had. Some trappings have changed—kids many have laptops rather than notebooks—too many practices have not. The innovative often is not that different. When it is, that’s when we see what real, deeper learning looks like.

                To return to the skepticism-signaling quotation marks. Vander Ark seems to want things both ways. He writes this book to show how innovations in education are the key to cities flourishing—and I agree. But—big, bold, all caps screaming but—the innovations he holds out as grand and working are really not impressive.  In fact, they seem to be mainly about efficiency and pace, i.e. having more kids take AP courses at younger ages. He holds out many models of personalized learning, many of which would seem to be self-paced drill-and-kill work, with loads of testing to ensure accountability. If that’s the ideal, then of course you will believe that there is too much innovation. And of course I end up skimming rather than really reading.

                Now, reflecting on the book, I can help but thinking of that wild-haired genius who was deemed an idiot in school, Einstein, and the so-often used quotation that “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” And we sure aren't going to end up with smart cities, at least not in the current and future world.

Despair or Determination? Post Mizzou and Paris

       The past few weeks have been one of those times when educators could give in to despair. That may hold especially true in independent schools. Far from the stereotype of snooty enclaves catering strictly to those of privilege, we've been striving for many years to address issues of equity and justice. We're not always successful, but many of our schools have become much more inclusive communities which emphasize respecting the dignity of each person. Some have become havens for those who may feel disenfranchised in other schools. We also don't rest on our laurels. For instance, recently there have been robust Twitter conversations around this topic on the #naisdeepdive thread. Here at St. John's Episcopal, one of our professional learning groups has been grappling with this issue and how our school can improve.

       Then we see the sort of incidents that have rocked college campuses from coast to coast, with those at Mizzou grabbing most of the headlines. As is usually the case, we don't know the pure facts about any of the cases. But we have seen them play out in a barrage of accusations and threats and undiluted rage. What we do not see happening--and we can only hope is--are the necessary honest, possibly painful sustained conversations that may wound but also foster healing. When we react in such fashion, how do we learn and grow? While not surprising, it is disappointing and ironic to see things playing out this way in academic institutions.

       The issues are legitimate and real. To deny that is ignorance. Our culture remains full of -phobias and -isms of all sorts, whether overt or subtle or institutionalized. And it's not just American culture. We see it thoughout the world, whether in the racist chants of ultras at European football matches or in the barbarism of groups such as ISIS, most recently in Paris last Friday.

       It saddens and scares me. I mean that in a large sense, but also on a very personal level that really hit me after the Paris attacks. My sixteen-year-old son's close friend was taking him out for a birthday dinner. His friend is a devout Muslim. As they headed off, I found myself worrying that someone would do or say something to them.

        At such times, it's easy to throw up one's arms and scream, "Really? In 2015?" To see our work in this area as futile, due to some dark flaw in human nature, some need to reduce our humanity to binary terms which become an us and a them. When that happens, we'll never understand each other. It's why I disagree when we hold out the notion that we should, for instance, be color blind when it comes to race. I believe we need to recognize and seek to comprehend the way certain characteristics shape who we are and our perspectives. Then maybe we can come together in ways that lie at the idealistic heart of most independent school educators.

       Rather than despair, we have to become even more determined. We can't respond just in extreme times; instead, we must commit ourselves to teaching basic humanity every day, in ways large and small. We have to wave the flag even higher, confident in our belief that education can bring true enlightenment.

Make a Makerspace?

       Not surprisingly, a recent #isedchat on Twitter focused on makespaces. (I couldn't participate that night, and I haven't read the archive.) They are a hot topic right now, and many schools either have opened or are planning to open makerspaces, often with some very clever names. Here at St. John's we have a couple of rooms that we are thinking of doing something interesting with. Of course, some people have suggested a makerspace. Right now, it's "the thing" to do. Meanwhile, I take pause.
       That hesitation does not signal some anti-makerspace stance. Actually, I love the philosophy behind them--that hands-on, make-a-mess, take-chances sort of experiential learning. I love the active engagement of makerspaces. I love that they are places where kids do rather than get done. So I don't deliberate because of any pedagogical reasons. I just want us to take five or ten and think about a big question.
       Shouldn't the entire school be a makerspace? Either literally or metaphorically?
       Instead, we create isolated areas that can serve as an analogy for how we treat what amounts to making in many areas of the curriculum. Let's consider a typical English program. Students learn how to parse sentences and to analyze literature; much of their writing becomes formulaic literary analysis, particularly as they grow older. Writing a short story is an "alternative" activity; creative writing is often available primarily through electives, if at all. All kids should be doing creative writing. Similarly, in history students can use their research--primary and secondary--to write the traditional research paper but also to produce documentaries. In math and science students could build scale models and simple machines, both of which would reveal understanding. Indeed, I argue that such activities lead to deeper, longer-lasting learning. I believe it gives students a stronger grasp on key concepts and skills, along with keeping alive positive attitudes about learning. It's why I'm proud that at St. John's we already take such an approach in many areas and always seek to add more.
       In a larger sense, the current fascination with makerspaces captures some of the truly sticky challenges with education reform. Some will dismiss them as just the latest fad, convinced that one only need wait until it passes and the next new thing (which may have been the next new thing once before) comes along.At the other end of the spectrum are those who glom onto the newest shiny object, seeing it as the silver bullet. The majority stand somewhere in the middle, not voicing too much dissent or excitement, not becoming too upset as long as they don't have to change too much of what they do. To extend the analogy another way, these folks are okay as long as the newcomer knows its place and stays there.
       At the risk of seeming cynical, I have to ask: How are makerspaces any different than the computer labs of 20-25 years ago? What's next--maker carts? Of course, it's now more common for technology to be more ubiquitous throughout schools. The hope is the same for the idea of making. Yet questions remain about how much of a transformative effect digital technology has had on education, especially versus the possibilities it creates. Part of the problem is inertia; part of it is fear; part of it is how we think we can measure success.
       Some irony exists in that I suspect part of the reason the makerspace movement has gained momentum is in response to the rise and spread of technology. Perhaps we've realized that we may have turned too much over to virtual experience. Did we really believe a virtual dissection would be just as good as actually wielding the scalpel and slicing into a frog, formaldehyde blasting our nostrils? Once again we are reminded of the need for balance.
       So perhaps in a way it is all cyclical. But makerspaces are different than computer labs in a key way. Early on, part of the reason technology remained in labs was cost. Another was portability. The truths of economics and Moore's law let us overcome those obstacles. When it comes to makerspaces, particularly if we focus on the philosophy, we face no such hurdles. The biggest stumbling block--perhaps the only one--may be people's mindsets.
       So here at St. John's do I want to make a makerspace? Certainly. For now, if I can't think of anything better, I'll take a great room. But ultimately I want it to be our school.
     

Affirmation as ROI: Thoughts after College Family Weekend

       This past weekend my wife, son, and I visited my daughter for Family Weekend at Bryn Mawr College, where she is a first-year student. We had a wonderful time meeting her friends and their parents, attending events on campus, venturing into Philadelphia, savoring great food, and hearing her perform in her a capella group. It was, as the college hopes, a quite affirming experience. After all, like independent schools, colleges want the parents to feel pleased with their investment, perhaps even beginning to see some returns on it. Of course, I also was casting my eye on the experience as a head of school.
       Fittingly, tonight I will attend a presentation by Frank Bruni, author Where You Go Is Not Who'll You Be: An Antidote to the College Admissions Mania. I referenced this book in a post from last May, when I wrote about the process that led to Kate's opting to attend Bryn Mawr. I suspect the title gives any reader some idea of the highlights, so I won't reiterate them. Between these two experiences, I've been thinking quite a bit about this idea of affirmation. More particularly, just what is it we want affirmed?
       I've written plenty in the past about my thoughts on the entire idea of return on investment when it comes to education. For a moment, I'll set aside my idealism and acknowledge the realities of wanting your children to find jobs, make a salary that allows a certain quality of life, gain admission to quality schools. I feel them myself. But my angst increases when these become the essential measure of success, the terms often dictated by others. The educational process must be about the making of a life.
       Thus I want to twist Bruni's title a bit. The selection of a college is not who one will be. But it can have a tremendous influence, in ways good and bad. I want to focus on the best scenario. In that case where you go will determine who you will be for a simple reason: it will help a young person continue to grow into a better version of her- or himself. It won't change them, at least not their core. In fact, it will be more like a sculptor chipping away at the stone to find that beautiful statue already within. Professors won't teach students what to think, but how to think; and how to articulate their thoughts more powerfully. I find myself returning to a post I wrote over three years ago, titled "Less I, More R": 

                So how does one know? What is the measure?                Your child.                Despite our wishes that every family choose us because of our mission, I wonder what percentage do. Besides, most of our mission statements contain the same generic, albeit aspirational rhetoric that remains very open to interpretation.  Ultimately, the hopes and dreams of a family are highly individualized. Each has different wishes and wants and needs. It’s highly personal and internal. Yet so often we look towards external measures for validation.                Instead, look at your child. Ask yourself if you see her or him developing in ways that match your values. For me, this means continually asking some big questions. Do they still love learning? Does their learning lead them to engage with the world? Are they becoming more independent? Are they positive and optimistic about their potential? Are they steadily becoming better versions of their unique selves?

I don't want to embarrass Kate by detailing how we've already seen this happening with her. In general, there is increased confidence and maturity and independence. Certainly that makes us feel affirmed.
       It's why the notion of "match" and "best fit" are so crucial in deciding upon a school. And no matter how excited any first-year student may be, surely doubts about something can creep in. But one thing I've realized is Bryn Mawr is very intentional in how they treat students. And in an opening assembly on move-in day, either President Kim Cassidy  or Dean of Admissions Peaches Valdes told the new students, "In our admissions office we don't make mistakes." From that moment through Family Weekend and I'm sure beyond, my daughter has felt affirmed. I'm confident other young women feel the same. While parental pride and satisfaction is certainly important, the young women feeling so as they enter adulthood is what really matters. There's the most valuable return on investment.