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.

Measuring a School Year? The Real Questions

                 A couple of Junes ago, Jessica Lahey, author of the excellent The Gift of Failure, had a provocative post on The New York Times Motherlode blog: “How Do You Take the Measure of a School Year?” Around the same time, unaware of her post, I wrote “Good Year?” Recently I’ve been pondering these same questions, although in a very different frame of mind. Usually come May I’m so, so ready for the summer. While I’m still working, the pace is very different, and there is time for some refreshment. This year, though, I’m ready to keep going. At St. John’s we’ve had a wonderful year; and because I’m energized by the great things happening here, I want to maintain the momentum.

                Meanwhile, I’ve been thinking a bit about Jessica’s question. She presents some different thoughts from parents and school folks, most of which are conclusions. I’m going to take a slightly different twist and begin in a different place. First, of course, you have to make some attempt to clarify what success would mean. What it would look like. We know any sort of large-scale consensus on that remains quixotic. But hope remains that we can reach it on a school-wide basic. Most certainly in an independent school, where we should have a clear mission and approach and culture. An ethos, if you will. This clarity then leads to the questions one should ask in taking that measure. 

                Knowing one size does not fit all, I offer you, in no particular order, questions that schools should ask in taking the measure of a school year:

• Are we a better school now than we were at the start of the year?
• Whose needs did we put first--adults' or kids'?
• Did we take enough risk? Did we let the kids?
• How farsighted were we in thinking about the purpose of education?
• Did we recognize and tap into the value of each member of our community?
• Did we aim to inspire and enchant?
• Did we give kids the right sort of headaches? Did we make them good tired or bad tired?
• Are we asking the right and better questions?
• Were there times we became so enthralled that we lost track of time and other frames?
• Is our lens one of healthy skepticism or viral cynicism?
• How often do we start with why?
• Have we held ourselves to the professional standards we often expect of kids?
• Do we practice what we preach?
• Was our first reaction constructive--"yes, and"--or destructive--"no" and "but"?

                 Certainly some will reject this set of questions, perhaps even the approach. I've heard the argument often enough: you can't really measure these things. I try to understand the sort of mindset that requires the certainty and affirmation that can come with hard data.The questions do point us to softer topics.But as the cliche reminds us, soft is hard and hard is easy. We can measure plenty of things in education, and we put plenty of faith in them. Certainly the questions above demand more of us. That's because they remind us what really matters.

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.

Evaluating Evaluation

                Last week at the Independent Schools Association of the Southwest (ISAS) Heads of School meeting, two sessions provided an interesting juxtaposition. On Monday Tim Fish from the McDonogh School (MD) presented an overview of the Folio faculty evaluation system developed there and now being used by a growing group of schools. Tuesday morning we watched the film The Finland Phenomenon and had a Skype session with Tony Wagner. Actually, the juxtaposition was more than interesting. It was almost jarring, and I am just starting to reconcile the issue.

                Folio is a highly systematized system of evaluation which stresses professional growth. Cornerstones of the process include personal reflection, ongoing goals, classroom observation, and multi-dimensional feedback, all occurring annually. A key is informed and honest conversation. The software helps make it more manageable. I very much like what I heard in the presentation. The new system I put in place at St. John’s has many similar features, but without the nice technology packaging.

                Then we watched The Finland Phenomenon. To summarize: for the past few years Finland has led the world in multiple measures of academic excellence, and we need to learn from them. While the film made many compelling points, a comment in the Skype session afterwards is what struck me. Wagner told us that Finland has no formal teacher evaluation system. Instead, teachers are greatly trusted.

                I imagined myself reporting to my board of trustees that I had decided to eliminate our evaluation system.  They are wonderfully supportive, but that would have been pushing my luck way too far. Besides, it’s not something I would do, as I believe an effective evaluation and growth program is essential to school improvement.

                Before I go anywhere else, I must say I understand the myriad problems with many evaluation systems. First and foremost, the entire process evokes dread for most people. Having once suffered as the target of a poorly done evaluation, I know the scars it can leave. I went into the next one fearfully; and while it went fine, I suspect that lessened the experience. Another issue is that in many places the process is little more than a checklist completed after a cursory observation; there is no reflection and subsequent planning for improvement. Consequently, it honors neither the teacher’s individual qualities nor the institution’s higher ideals. Finally, when done right, the process is extremely intensive and time consuming.

                So what makes for an effective system? The highest of standards must be articulated and shared; and everyone must strive to meet them, with the desire to improve being the default mindset. Tied to that notion, rather than being used punitively, the system must function in a way that fosters reflection and growth. This necessitates trust and optimism. In many ways, it should resemble a wonderful classroom.

                In an ideal situation, the level of collaboration would have colleagues making this occur organically, and poor performers would not survive, mainly because their peers would not stand for it. But teachers are accustomed to working in professional isolation, the lords of their classroom fiefdoms. So we’re talking about shifting engrained school culture. And that is where Finland has a distinct advantage. Besides the cultural homogeneity, a teacher cannot take over a classroom without having undergone master’s degree level preparation, much of which involves classroom observation and analysis, a process that continues throughout one’s career. While the evaluation system may not be formal, in reality it is intense and continuous…and very welcome.

                This calls to mind Jim Collins’ admonition in Good to Great (passé, but apropos): “First who…then what.” More than any system or lack thereof, what matters most is having the right people. If you really want to fulfill your mission, they should serve as the true embodiment of your mission. Those will be your best teachers—the ones kids want to grow up to be just like.