Greater Expectations Post Changing the Odds Conference

     For the past two days I have enjoyed the great privilege of attending the Changing the Odds conference put on by The Momentous Institute. This is a group of over 600 community and business leaders "committed to transforming kids' lives." They now run two schools in Dallas, and their success rate is very high, with their students going on to graduate high school at much higher rates than other public school students (other supporting data here). The key is that Momentous focuses on kids' social-emotional well-being.
     Simply because of the amazing line-up of speakers, I knew the conference would be a treat (even if I had to miss Wendy Mogel at the end). I'd heard some of them before, and I'd read about some of the others. I'll cite several of them as this post proceeds. Pieces of the conference are coming together in a way that speaks loudly and clearly to what whole-child, modern education should be about. This post is my first attempt to weave that tapestry, so forgive the dangling threads. They are all coming together under the idea of expectations.
     Tony Wagner, author of The Global Achievement Gap and Creating Innovators, is always an energetic and dynamic speaker. After pointing out how Google allows people to be the architects of their own learning, he stressed that "it's not about what you know; it's about what you can do." I found myself thinking about this in terms of how schools often assess, even when using more project-based approaches. We say we assess because we want to see what students can do. I agree, and I see how important this is when it comes to certain essential skills. We must, for example, make sure a child is learning to read proficiently. A students must learn basic numeracy. However, too frequently we assess students within a rigid framework based on our preset determinations for their performance. Overly strict guidelines and rubrics are two examples. Some will argue that those help students know what is necessary to experience success. Yes...but within limits. It risks limiting the possibilities of what they can achieve. This coexists with the "single curriculum" that Wagner says he sees across most schools, driven by standardized measures of accountability and notions of success.
     Think about the typical school project, even a relatively open-ended one, and compare it to these two examples shared by Ron Berger, chief program officer of Expeditionary Learning and author of An Ethic of Excellence. He told of the young teens from Springfield, MA, who did energy audits in their school district and saved them over $150,000, and were then asked to expand their work on a larger scale. Even more amazing were some Chicago elementary students who lived in the center of an area riddled with gun violence. They campaigned against it, even approaching gangs to put down their weapons and for there to be a day without any shootings. It worked in their neighborhood. They also produced a beautiful book commemorating neighborhood angels working to lessen the violence.
     Yes, extreme and amazing examples, but also illustrative. When we let them, kids can do amazing things. They epitomize Berger's opinion that "everyone wants to create something original, beautiful, and of value." So why limit that? Why be surprised when they do? That says something about our expectations, and it speaks loudly to those young people hearing the message. Do I believe all kids will go out and do something such as those two wonderful stories? Not necessarily. But I believe each could. I'm not sure I'd want someone who doesn't working with my kids. But too many people don't. Malcolm Gladwell (The Tipping Point, Outliers, David and Goliath) talked about how we have a national fixed mindset, one that causes us to overlook all sorts of talent, which harms us individually and collectively.
      Part of the problem is that teachers are accustomed to pointing out what's wrong with something. Marking points off, if you will. And, as Dr. Rick Hanson explained, the brain is hard-wired to latch on to adversity more readily than other experiences. Since experience leads to cortical thickening, this leads to the type of mind-brain connection that we don't want. It reaffirmed both scinetifically and emotionally why I have concerns with the current, I hope faddish, emphasis on failure in school. Handled correctly, this can build resilience. But the effects can prove devastating, as captured in the riveting story of her life told by Consuelo Castillo Kickbusch, who grew up poor and abused, only to be affirmed in her late teens that she was very bright. Give the encouragement and put in the right environment, she became the first woman commissioned in the Texas ROTC and had a star twenty-year military career. And that brings me back to the Wagner quotation in the third paragraph, Yes, he's right, but per the maxim, no one cares how much you know until they know how much you care. Educators must create the environment in which young people can thrive in all parts of their lives--mind, body, and soul.
     And that comes down to expectations. Expectations not just for academic performance, but expectations for how we are going to treat each other as individuals of worth. As individuals who will do great things. We should never discount the possibilities of what any young person can achieve. After all, I'm writing this just a couple days after seventeen-year-old Malala became the youngest-ever winner of the Nobel Peace Prize.

Failure of Promoting Failure

     For the past few years, we've heard much talk about failure in education. Not in the usual sense that our schools are failing, but in calls for all the reasons students need to experience failure. The calls seem particularly loud in the independent school world, where so many of our students are so success driven and have experienced little but that. I know people's intentions are in the right place. They want to help young people develop grit and resiliency and character. Qualities that will hep them succeed in life. No quarrels here. Still something has bothered me about how easily and loosely some commend this idea.
     The a few evenings ago I came across a Tweet from Josie Holford, the head at Poughkeepsie (NY) Day School. It resonated with me and led to this exchange:

I've never met Josie in person, but I have great respect for what I've seen her put out in social media. (A great example of the power of connectivity in the digital era!) We ended up favoriting each other's comments, and I've decided I need to try to articulate my concerns with "this whole failure trend." So I credit her for the prompt.
     First, we need to consider the word failure itself. It's a strong word, packed with negative connotations, suggestive of catastrophe no matter how much we may chant "failure isn't fatal." Words don't lose their power very easily. Let's rethink the language a bit and consider setbacks and misfires and missed attempts...possible replacements abound. And they likely are more in line with the mindset we want to promote. Some may say I'm being much too literal in how I am looking at the word. Perhaps. But language matters.
     Once we have done that, let's dig a bit deeper. Given the implications of failure, it certainly isn't conducive to learning. After all, I'm sure we can agree that failure--however handled--creates stress. And Rule #8 in John Medina's Brain Rules is "Stressed brains don't learn the same way" (p 169). He doesn't mean for the better. Yes, some stress can help. But Medina explains how stress "hurts declarative memory (things you can declare) and executive function (the type of thinking that involves problem-solving). Those, of course, are the skills needed to excel in school and business" (p 178). He adds, "Quite literally, severe stress can cause brain damage in the very tissues most likely to help your children pass their SATs" (179).
     You may be ready to dismiss my point by saying, "Yes, but he says 'severe stress.'" Sure. But don't you think children today feel stress from incredible pressure to succeed in very tangible and public ways? And we're throwing around the idea of failure as somehow good for them. I think that ramps up the stress more than it helps them deal with life's adversities.
     Plus I happen to believe that we learn better when we experience success. When we do something well, reflect on how we did it, rinse and repeat. Of course, part of that process necessitates considering what didn't work. It's much easier to do that when not sorting through what has been casually labeled a failure. The neurotransmitters most associated with the maintenance of mental health--serotonin, dopamine, norepinephrine--are released ruing more positive activities. Meanwhile, the levels of adrenaline and cortisol released during stress can cause damage if the stress is chronic. More particularly, cortisol damages the cells of the hippocampus, crippling the ability to learn and remember.
     Please understand that I am not advocating taking it too easy on students. I believe kids like to jump for high bars. It's about what sort of learning experiences we create for them. Medina cites studies which show that "a certain amount of uncertainty can be good for productivity, especially for bright, motivated employees. What they need is a balance between controllability and uncontrollability. Slight feelings of uncertainty may cause them to deploy unique problem solving strategies" (188). I'd argue this holds true for students as well.
     Throughout that process we must be extremely careful about our words and our actions. If we aren't, the students are not the only ones who will have experienced failure. We will have failed them.

Reaction to News a Computer Can Grade Essays

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heed the Dodo

The massive historic sweep of Howard Rheingold’s Mind Amplifier: Can Our Digital Tools Make Us Smarter? pivots on a central premise: “…humans appear to be ‘natural-born cyborgs,’ biologically equipped to reprogram each other’s thinking machinery through culture” (Kindle edition, loc 65). Essentially, then, our evolution into modern human beings has been inextricably linked to our ability to learn. He argues, “It’s not just the mind-tools that matter when creating civilization shifters. Knowing how to use mind-tools is what reshapes thinking and bends history” (loc 29). Similarly, “…the human brain’s self-programming capabilities seem to have arisen from, and remain coupled to, a co-evolutionary upward spiral” (loc 104). Because of that, “The road to microchips started when humans began growing food instead of hunting for it” (loc 158).

It’s really much more than our having enjoyed all the benefits of the opposable thumb. But let’s go ahead and start someplace similar. Something inspired someone to use some object—stick, rock—as a simple tool or weapon. Scientists speculate this move and how it affected the cerebral cortex primed the pumps for the eventual emergence of language development. Both operate on similar types of abstraction and ideation. The flywheel began spinning and picked up speed. Once we began growing food, communities formed, leading to further language enhancement. Alphabetic communication and thinking naturally leads to abstract thinking, logical analysis, and classification systems. And so forth and so on…

Which brings us to today. As Rheingold sees the current situation: “We’re beginning to see how the process of using old tools to create new tools works. This means we can influence or exert control over the process of evolution of the extended mind rather than simply coping with it” (loc 90). More specifically:

The question now is how to incorporate what is known about the psychology of attention, the reprogramming of the neuroplastic capacity of the human brain, the effects of human-computer interfaces, tools for turning complex data into visualizations, and the collaborative affordances of online media to deliberately design the next level of abstraction. (loc 437)

And: “The design of computers to enhance cognitive functions of individuals becomes an order of magnitude more complicated when enhancing the cognitive functions of human social groups” (loc 470).

                Those passages raise gigantic, hairy, frightening, exciting questions. They demand our consideration, and answers aren’t likely to come very easily. The implications for human culture are massive, and they are approaching much faster than we may realize or want to believe. I’m fascinated by the topic and could go on and on.

                But for now, I want to zero in on one of those implications: What does this mean for schools? Or another way of putting it: Why school?

                It’s not a new question. I suspect it’s been around ever since there have been schools. When my wife attended the Harvard Graduate School of Education in the early 1990s, “Why school?” was an oft-repeated query. In this case, it pondered why education—more specifically, school—is one of the few compulsory things in the United States and just why that is. If it is going to be, we should keep re-examining the objectives and the practices. While I have not read Mike Rose’s Why School? Reclaiming Education for All of Us, my understanding is that he does so through both broad and narrow lenses. Browsing some reviews, I sense Rose focuses on rather eternal educational values.

In the wonderful Why School? How Education Must Change When Learning and Information are Everywhere, Will Richardson considers the question in a more pointed, historically immediate sense. He challenges: “…what’s the value of school now that opportunities for learning without it are exploding all around us?” (Kindle edition, loc 65). As he sees the world developing, “In this new story, real learning happens anytime, anywhere, with anyone we like—not just with a teacher and some sage-age peers, in a classroom, from September to June” (loc 53).

In answering the question, schools have to consider a power shift. Or at least a shift in control. Until recently, schools and teachers maintained power and control primarily because they were the means of access. Naturally, schools grew in forms that established this sense of control in both overt and more subtle ways. Departmentalization, classroom design, curricular organization, age groupings, standardization, rigid assessment criteria, library collections—each is hierarchical and prescriptive.

Now, however, the hierarchies are tumbling, the prescriptions being shredded. Literacy simply ain’t just the three R’s any more. Posing the right questions is just as important—maybe more important—than being able to answer the same old ones. Consumption still matters, but upon digestion one must be ready to contribute and collaborate. Connect with bigger experts than the ones at the front of the class, and put yourself out there for anyone to view and critique. And it’s all cheap and easy. The control has begun to shift, and learning is becoming the ultimate choose-your-own-adventure book.

So that “Why school?” question takes on an unprecedented urgency for all sorts of what seem obvious reasons. More schools are having those conversations and responding in positive fashion, but I don’t see it happening on a wide-enough or fast-enough basis. Many reasons exist, ones I have cited in many places throughout this blog.

Rheingold’s book provoked me to consider this entire issue from another angle. In this emerging world, schools still can have an absolutely vital role. But will they? Yes, if they heed a simple warning based on scientific history. It’s one I think particularly apropos for schools such as mine, to which people pay tuition.

Evolve or die.

I know that sounds dramatic, but consider what Rheingold lays out for us. At the risk of oversimplifying, when it comes to human intelligence, our evolution has come about through key intersection of existing human brain power and massive cultural/environmental factors. It is happening right now. Given the shifts outlined a few paragraphs back, schools need to figure out which useless appendages to shed and which make us fitter in a very conscious attempt to influence natural selection.

Reportedly the last dodo bird, considered a myth by some, was spotted on Mauritius Island in 1662. People speculate the dodo became flightless because of the abundant food sources and lack of predators on the island. It also never developed defense mechanisms, so hungry sailors armed with clubs and invasive species wiped them out within a century. Its extinction was not immediately noticed, and now the dodo exists only as a symbol of obsolescence.

Facebook--Neuroscience and Behavioral Science

A recent post on the Committed Sardine Blog had the headline “Facebook's 'Dark Side': Study Finds Link to Socially Aggressive Narcissism.” The sub-title read, “Psychology paper finds Facebook and other social media offer platform for obsessions with self-image and shallow friendships” (http://www.21stcenturyfluency.com/blogpost.cfm?blogID=2582”. Among the key findings:

·         Researchers have established a direct link between the number of friends you have on Facebook and the degree to which you are a "socially disruptive" narcissist;

·         People who score highly on the Narcissistic Personality Inventory questionnaire had more friends on Facebook, tagged themselves more often and updated their newsfeeds more regularly.

·         narcissists responded more aggressively to derogatory comments made about them on the social networking site's public walls and changed their profile pictures more often

A number of previous studies have linked narcissism with Facebook use, but this is some of the first evidence of a direct relationship between Facebook friends and the most "toxic" elements of narcissistic personality disorder.

I’m not really the right person to comment on Facebook. I’ve been on it once, and that was to help my wife figure out how to cancel her account. Yet I suspect that many of you are seeing these findings and, like me, feel not the least bit surprised.

It’s not as if self-centered exhibitionism is anything new. Not that long ago in the past, however, it was reserved, in one example, for the drunken fan who decides to run onto the field during a ballgame. I assume regret came with sobriety. Now, the hope is 10,000 fans video the event and it goes viral before the end of the game. Most of our popular tools and social media encourage such self-centeredness. We use i-devices (albeit with a lower case i) to regularly update our status. Success is measured in terms of “friends” and “followers,” however loosely we use the term. And how many of the bits floating through cyberspace are worth someone’s two cents. Think about this currently popular picture that “explains” social media:

http://www.mymodernmet.com/xn/detail/2100445%253ABlogPost%253A873531&docid=EbGGkCmxrmMR8M&

While not focused strictly on Facebook, Nicholas Carr considered these implications in The Shallows: What the Internet is Doing to Our Brains. Carr begins by allowing that there are enthusiasts and skeptics regarding the Internet. He writes: “What both enthusiast and skeptic miss is what McLuhan saw: that in the long run a medium’s content matters less than the medium itself in influencing how we think and act” (Kindle edition, Loc 123). In a wonderful analogy, Carr reflects upon how his own way of processing information has changed: “Once I was a scuba diver in the sea of words. Now I zip along the surface like a guy on a Jet Ski” (Loc 182).

The analogy calls to mind the mythological origins of the term used for the psychological disorder we call Narcissism. Despite being wooed by the beautiful Echo, Narcissus is incapable of turning away from his own reflection in the waters of a small pond. Eventually he changes into a flower. While we can feel pity for him, the real sadness comes from the way his behavior leads to Echo wasting away to nothing but a hollow sound.

Meanwhile, while the Facebook findings do not surprise and are explored in some detail, it was another line in the article that hit me: “The research comes amid increasing evidence that young people are becoming increasingly narcissistic, and obsessed with self-image and shallow friendships.”

                So as an educator, certainly I’m concerned about the implications of all this technology. Of course, like Carr, I’m worried about the adverse effects it may be having on our brains, particularly those of young people who are in key formative periods. But I want to fire another warning shot. We had better also think very hard about questions of character.

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.

    

How Time Flies!

            A few days ago a post appeared on the Fast Company blog that made me think, “Wow! I want one of those gadgets. In fact, I want one for every classroom. I want one in my house. I think every family needs one."

No, it’s not some super-cool tablet that will replace the iPad. It’s not a robot that will do routine chores. It’s a clock. A clock that takes a full year to complete its cycle: “This Seasonal Clock Will Keep You thinking About the Present.”

            In many ways time is a form of currency. How we spend it sends signals about our priorities, and we never seem to have enough of it. We often say that we didn’t get something done because we ran out of time; what we’ve really done is choose to use that time doing something else. We all have 24 hours in a day, although our ultimate amount of mortal time obviously varies. And when we do toss off that mortal coil, how do we want the epitaph to read—“He simply ran out of time” or “He made the most of it, and it mattered”?

            That’s pretty big picture. As the article points out, “our obsession with small increments of time often keeps us from focusing on the bigger picture.” This manifests itself in some obvious ways in education. Curricula is organized into discrete units, usually with a defined time frame and marked by a test at the end. Add enough of those and it’s suddenly time for a “final” exam. Seat time becomes a key measurement of assumed progress. Grade levels and divisional organizations become major transitions, like flipping months on a calendar and then buying a new one (a metaphor becoming rapidly obsolete, but that’s another post). Teachers fret about having to make sure students are ready for the next level. A student having to apply to another school in 4^th or 8^th or 12^th grade imposes another deadline.

            The problem with all this? Too often we feel that we have to finish kids. And we often want it to happen on our timetable, not theirs. Plus it should come with a certain payoff.

            Such an approach is not a healthy one for children, particularly when it comes to their long-term development. It fosters a product-focused orientation, one in which a certain result takes on too great an importance and becomes a measure of self-worth.  That can obscure what led to the result, which is what really needs to be examined for growth to occur. Similarly, struggles become “catastrophic” and provoke finger-pointing rather than reflection and lessons in determination and resilience. It undermines natural inclinations to love learning for its own sake. (Read more about this in an earlier post on Carole Dweck’s Mindset.)

            What are the not-so-long-term effects of this? Recently National Association of Independent Schools president Pat Bassett was part of a panel with the president of Georgetown, the president of Stanford, the dean of the faculty of Arts & Science at Harvard, and the Director of the Initiative for Innovation in Engineering Education at Olin College. Afterwards, Bassett wrote on his blog:

           

The university leaders also confirmed with what a professor at Harvard told me last year, that 30–40 percent of the undergrads are on anti-depressants, and 10 percent of girls suffered from eating disorders. While the university leaders were quick to point out that their universities were mirroring national data, it is particularly interesting to me that the students at these colleges had already “won the lottery” by matriculating at places that were nearly impossible to get into for mere mortals, and yet so many were still stressed beyond belief and needing medication (prescribed or, probably in much larger numbers, self-medicating — see the next bullet point).

Footnote to “success-driven parents and college counselors”: beware of what you wish for: What we actually do well is place students in the “best match” college, where they will be successful and can pursue interests that will keep them engaged and balanced.(http://www.nais.org/about/article.cfm?ItemNumber=155607&sn.ItemNumber=4181&tn.ItemNumber=147271)

In The Path to Purpose: How Young People Find Their Calling in Life, educational psychologist William Damon cites a meta-analytic study of college students which points out that 45% of them show serious signs of depression. Per that same study, only 20% could be called “truly purposeful.” The rest possess a “foggy self-identity” and can see only the short term rather than have long-term aspirations. I can’t help but believe that this is caused in part by children feeling rushed and thus pressured at younger and younger ages.

            Helping young people remain life-long learners has longer term benefits. Particularly in this day and age, when so much changes in a constant swirl, people have to be able to react and adapt and evolve, and quickly. It’s also a matter of long-term health and quality of life.  In A User’s Guide to the Brain, Dr. John Ratey talks about the nuns of Mankato. Many live into their nineties and even past one hundred; on average they live much longer than the general public. They also show far fewer cases of all mental and neurological diseases. Why? It’s not just living in a convent and perhaps escaping many of life’s stressors. The nuns vigorously play intellectual games, engage in debates, and earn advanced degrees. Many of the nuns donated their brains to science, and examination revealed unusually great dendritic growth. The brains of those nuns who were more intellectually engaged showed more growth than others. The implication, as Ratey explains:

Like the nuns of Mankato, if you constantly challenge your brain to learn new things, you may develop more neural connections that help you delay the onset of Alzheimer’s disease, recover from a stroke, and live a longer life. And your life will be more interesting. It’s never too late to start: studies show that the adult cortex retains its basic plasticity. You can indeed teach an old dog new tricks. (364)

That depends largely on how we nurture our pups and make sure they get what they need when young. As a former colleague of mine is fond of saying, “It’s easier to build children than to repair adults.”

            It’s a tremendous challenge to keep the long view in mind. We want the best for our children, and in this hyper-competitive world we fear their falling behind in the race to whatever goal. Life comes with certain realities, including deadlines. Sometimes I watch both the children here and my own kids and feel as if I’m holding a stopwatch, ready to click the buttons as milestones are passed. I can grow impatient; I think, “Shouldn’t you be able to do this by now?!?” I have to take a deep breath. I remind myself of what really matters. And I realize that I need to trade the stopwatch for one of these new clocks.

Taming My Lizard Brain: An Unforeseen Lesson from Blogging

                Renowned business writer and marketing expert Seth Godin frequently writes about the “need to ship.” To oversimplify, per Godin you can have all the great ideas you want; but unless you ship, they don’t really matter. In other words, you have to deliver the product. Literal in certain areas, the idea of shipping becomes a metaphor for just about any endeavor. When people don’t ship, says Godin, it’s frequently because their “lizard brain” takes over. This is the brain stem, the reptillian base of our brains, and we react in the simplest possible fashion and allow the fear to take over. If we could, we’d drop our tails and flee.

                Writing this blog, I feel real pressure to ship at least once per week. As someone pointed out to me, “You create a monster; then you have to feed it.” At first this was easy: I was new to my school, wanted people to learn about me and my ideas, had plenty to say. It was purely rational, grounded in my cerebral cortex. Now, shipping has become harder. I find myself asking questions that, while logical, still drip with juices of the lizard brain. What am I going to say this week? Haven’t I already written about that? Is this worth posting on? What are people thinking about my posts? Have I gone too far in some of my points and overly offended someone? Would anyone notice if I didn’t post for a while? If I stopped posting at all? Why isn’t my mind working the way I want it to? When did I forget how to write? How in the world does Godin manage to post every single day, and it’s almost always great?

                Suddenly I think about students, and the dominant emotion turns to empathy. We demand that they ship, on time and at a high rate of production. Some of the work is fairly mechanical, and students can simply churn out the product. But the really important higher-level stuff such as creation, analysis, synthesis? We bring kids along so that they can do that sort of work, and they often do it surprisingly well for their respective ages. At any level such work takes time and space for reflection, yet we keep kids hopping. I have to wonder how this affects deep, long-term learning.

Consider the demands of a school day for a developing child. (I’ve shadowed kids in various grades for a day, and it’s exhausting.) Now imagine that you have to go home and have products ready for the next day.  Meanwhile, the frontal lobes of the cerebral cortex don’t fully mature until the late teens and early twenties. All told, it’s rather amazing how well kids can keep the lizard brain at bay.

Another blog post seems a bit less daunting.

Academically On Course

            The authors of Academically Adrift  paint a dismal picture of higher education. The essential image is sadly predictable: too few students engaged regularly in the sort of complex reasoning and critical analysis that will help prepare them for democratic citizenship and economic productivity, let alone a meaningful life of the mind. Mounds of data from various studies reveal college students scarcely improve their higher-order thinking skills, although they begin woefully low in these areas.

            Enough blame exists for just about everyone to swallow a few mouthfuls. The authors do not let educational institutions off the hook. They cite many problems, including the lack of priority on instruction; the decreasing number of full-time professors; their focus on tenure and research; the massively increased number of administrators; and an economic drive to admit as many students as possible, whether prepared or not.

            Tied to that final point, more students see college simply as a necessary investment for a return, usually in the form of employment. A greater percentage of high school students assume they will attend college, although they do not tie it to any particular ambition or plan. The authors point out:

Many students come to college not only poorly prepared by prior schooling for highly demanding academic tasks that ideally lie in front of them, but—more troubling still—they enter college with attitudes, norms, values, and behaviors that are often at odds with academic commitment. (Kindle edition, loc 141)

Over the years, the number of hours that students they spend studying has been cut in half. Graduation rates also have plummeted; and of those who do graduate, many are now taking 5-6 years.

            I don’t question either general argument. As for the people involved in higher education, shame on them, for they should know better. As for the students, I feel sorry for them. In many ways, they have been victimized by a backwards system.

            The overwhelming majority of students in America have proceeded through an educational assembly line with various checks along the way in the form of standardized tests. Before they can leave the plant, quality control comes in the form of one final test—the exit exam. Of course, along the way they have spent countless hours on practice problems, pre-tests, test review, tests in other classes that will be just like the big test. Ultimately, I’m not sure this really proves anything other than how well a student has learned to take a very limited form of assessment—a type of test with little resemblance to anything he or she will ever encounter in real life.

            Here are the real questions we need to ask a student about to graduate. What can you do with what you’ve learned? How can you show me that you’ve synthesized and internalized all the key elements of your education?

            For that reason, I’m very excited about our eighth graders’ service learning projects. They are a wonderful capstone experience. Working in small groups, students have researched various societal issues, brainstormed solutions, presented their cases, and chosen an area on which to focus. They spend most of the final trimester engaged in actual service based on their plans. Some have joined the Falling Whistles project for peace in Congo. Some are working to encourage literacy. Some are working with senior citizens. Some are combating child obesity. At the end of the project, students will present again for their peers, teachers, and families, along with preparing a final report. By showing how both their minds and spirits have flourished, the students will embody the rich and truly holistic education they have gained throughout their time at St. John’s. To invoke a Quaker ideal, they are letting their lives speak.

            It also means that St. John’s students are anything but academically adrift. Indeed, they graduate ready to navigate high school and life with confidence and purpose.

Not by Book or by Nook, but by…

            In a previous post titled “Reading—By Book or by Nook or By..?”, I wrote about my not owning an e-reader. I had some good reasons. Note the verb tense. I had good reasons. Now I am the owner of a latest generation Kindle.

            While some of the concerns remain, one simple factor influenced the decision. My book bill. I realized that I could pay for the device rather quickly just in what I would save by purchasing e-editions. I also like the idea of being able to have numerous books with me at once. Wanting a book and having it in seconds is awesome. It’s light and easier to hold open in various positions than a regular book. Only one hand is needed, making it easier to pet the cat or sip on some coffee. The biggest perk may be not needing my glasses. I love my Kindle so much that I even bought it a nice protective case.

            The first book I read on it is Nicholas Carr’s The Shallows: What the Internet is Doing to Our Brains. This book grew out of Carr’s widely-read essay from the Atlantic Monthly, “Is Google Making Us Stupid?” (What can I say? I appreciate irony.) Carr makes an impassioned and logical argument based on neuro-plasticity and how we use the Internet. To perhaps oversimplify, Carr posits that the frenzied pace of Internet use and our so easily being tempted by distraction are changing our synapses and brain structures in undesirable fashion. The upshot? We are losing the ability to concentrate for extended periods of time and to probe ideas in sufficient depth.

            I don’t doubt Carr’s points, and I certainly share some of his concerns. No, this isn’t going to become one of those “kids today” gripes. In fact, in some ways it is the opposite. Yes, in some ways we clearly are changing. We may be in some others. At the same time I would argue that they are changes that, while perhaps not desirable, are borne of human desire. People are novelty-seeking creatures, and we like to reach quick conclusions based on scant evidence. Is that good? Not really. But it’s true. I think that Carr ignores that more people have long been drawn to light best sellers than scientific-philosophical treatises such as his. After some initial success, Herman Melville was dismissed as a “lunatic” and Moby-Dick basically ignored.

            Besides, when the earliest books first appeared, Socrates and his pals bemoaned the havoc they would wreak on human culture. Our individual and collective memory would be wiped out like a magnetized floppy disk. Throughout history similar doom criers have predicted dire catastrophe due to some human folly.

            As an educator, I find perhaps the most alarming part of Carr’s theory the evidence that academic scholarship shows signs of the shallowness he sees developing. For instance, the same references are showing up in a wider variety of papers on any given topic, a suggestion of people relying on search engines. So the problem may be affecting even those innately drawn to more intellectual pursuits.

            And therein lies the rub. I’m fairly judicious when doing on-line research. When using my Kindle, I’ve actually found myself being more thoughtful. Annotation takes a bit more effort, so I find myself underlining less but writing better notes. I actually find myself reading a bit more slowly, perhaps because less appears on the screen at a time. I don’t feel as pulled along by the following text.

            At the same time, of course I worry about young people growing up in the on-line world and all that that implies. I ponder how it affects all of us—individually and collectively. We can wax nostalgic all we want. But we’re not going to stop, and probably not even slow, the worlds’ accelerating rate of change. It doesn’t alter the eternal challenge educators face to engage young people in the life of the mind. It simply means that we have to rethink how to do it in the difficulties of the current context. And shouldn’t we always be rethinking education in that fashion?

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.