Is 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?"
     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.
     Perhaps we need to add the word possibly to the saying: "The smartest person in the room is possibly the room." The goal remains admirable. To achieve it demands rethinking some of our conceptions about learning, particularly as it's tied to achievement.
     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.
     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.
     But the potential is there; as I said, the concept makes sense. Turning that concept into reality will necessitate some shifts.
     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.
     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.
     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.
     Yes, then the room would be much smarter. And so will each person it it.

The Fine Art of Cooking

       I don't recall where I first heard the idea that giving students too detailed a rubric (or, I guess, and sort of excessive directions) is akin to simply asking them to follow a recipe.  They may produce an acceptable meal, perhaps even a tasty one. They are, however, very unlikely to ever become true chefs.
       A recent TV viewing experience affirmed the truth of this metaphor in quite literal terms. My wife and I tuned into Chopped Junior on the food network because one of her college friend's 13-year-old daughter was competing. In case, like me, you have no idea what the premise of the show is, I'll briefly explain. There is a certain food theme; in this case, it was fast food. Contestants are given a few random ingredients and told what they have to prepare within a set time. They can augment with whatever is available in the kitchen. After each round one person is eliminated by the adult judges. It's all high-paced, creative, dramatic, and surprisingly entertaining. To remove any suspense, Annabelle won. And her victory captures the larger point.
       She has seven siblings, and I believe she's one of the younger children. When she was around seven, as if life weren't hectic enough, her father lost his job. Annabelle was often told to find what was in the kitchen and figure out something to cook. She began by following basic instructions, only to soon begin branching out and later beginning to experiment in all sorts of ways. Nothing on the show flustered her.*
       Her final opponent was a young man whose two parents are chefs, and he had been training at their feet for years. While clearly talented, he seemed unable to improvise nearly as well. More than that, the pressure clearly impeded his performance.
       It's not that hard to figure out the secret sauce.


*It's also interesting, and perhaps relevant, that she is home-schooled.

Creative Limits?

       Recently I finished re-reading Bruce Nussbaum's Creative Intelligence: Harnessing the Power to Create, Connect, and Inspire. Towards the end he writes,

We need to trade in an economics of efficiency for an economics of creativity. Because creativity and uncertainty exist outside the dominant economic model, there is little room for encouraging the role that start-ups play in economic growth. Yet it's start-ups--and larger corporations that haven't lost their connection to their founders--that are, by and large, driving modern innovation and job creation. Why shouldn't our economic model reflect that? We should be moving away from a model of economics based on the 'culture of control' that is embedded in the efficient market theory toward a new model that embraces a 'culture of chance' (237).

I saw that I had made a note: "Could make for great link to education. Blog post?" I'd never written the post, but the ideas certainly have threaded their way throughout this entire blog. A little bit later, Nussbaum raises a question with which I've also struggled: "How do we assess creativity?" (252). He cites several encouraging examples, ranging from portfolios to certain types of performance tasks. I'm proud to say that we use many of them here at St. John's. At the same time, though, while such assessments mark clear improvement in this area, I found myself thinking about how they can set us up for the same traps that have plagued education for so long.
     Soon after, I posted this Tweet:

Query/conundrum/irony: Can't attempts to assess creativity in fact somehow stifle creativity due to preset expectations? #isedchat #edchat

— Mark Crotty (@crottymark) August 26, 2016

Responses were varied. One I particularly appreciated came from Adam Fachler, who sent me a link to a piece by Grant Wiggins.

@crottymark would you say more? happy/interested to think through. asking similar Q on my end...

— Adam Fachler (@adamfachler) August 26, 2016

His response captures how, as great as it can be, sometimes Twitter is per its nature an unsatisfactory medium. This topic is not one explored well in short-form thinking. I also know that I won't have done it justice when this post ends.
       A response from Lee Finklestein captured part of the dilemma:

@crottymark I would agree. Skills like creativity & curiosity highly contextual make observations nuanced. https://t.co/c18WPSWk3Z #isedchat

— Lee Finkelstein (@leefink) August 26, 2016

I completely agree with Lee, but I also think we need to extend his thinking in some clear and important directions. Beyond creativity being so highly contextual and nuanced, any time we apply standards and/or expectations in any form, we create limiting frameworks. They can affect how we assess, and they can greatly influence--consciously or subconsciously--the work of the creator. We automatically look for certain qualities and/or we try to please the audience. It becomes that much harder for us to see with an open, uncluttered mind. That is especially true when the assessment has some sort of stake attached to it. The subsequent anxiety can stifle the creativity even more. After all, we know the countless stories of those--especially artists such as Picasso or Pollock--who suffered rejection. I suspect the majority of us don't really accept the creative until somehow it has survived to become nearly mainstream because that artist not only touched upon something so human, but also managed to persevere. And how do you measure that?
       Let's take a concrete example from a junior level high school English class. Think about how you would have dealt with this. The course focuses on various aspects of language--what it is, how we use it, the various issues. For their first essay the students were told to write on any topic related to the novel they'd read. No rubric existed, but students were told to explore the boundaries of language and take some chances. Most students make some noble attempts, but for the most part stayed within fairly universal essay structures. Except one young lady. She wrote her essay on a box. I don't mean on a box, as in the topic was a box. I mean literally on a box. An introductory paragraph was on the top. Each side has a paragraph on it. She had set it up so the order made sense depending on where you chose to begin. In the middle of each side was a small door. When you opened the door, you found a small icon about the paragraph's primary example. The bottom of the box had a concluding paragraph. I wish I had a picture so you could see just how beautiful it was, and it was intellectually profound. But I have to admit, when I first received it, I wasn't sure what in the world to do with it in terms of assessment...even though I recognized the true creativity. I also admired the student's guts. Not surprisingly, when she received positive feedback, more students took such risks. If I had been using a typical rubric, would she have created such a work? Perhaps. If she had, how would I have graded her? I'm sure you can see where I'm going with this and can follow the lead to the logical conclusion of the fear mentioned at end of my first paragraph.
       The question for education, then, is quite daunting, especially if we truly consider the implications. Yes, we have to wonder about how we assess creativity. Perhaps more importantly, we need to ask--and answer quite honestly--how creative we ourselves are willing to be.