Back-to-School Inspiration: A Strengths-Finder Approach to Educational Progress

     Criticizing schools--or at least aspects of them--is easy. It's one of those subjects about which everyone seems to hold an opinion, usually focused on something that's wrong. Sometimes they have a valid point; sometimes they don't. Among the loudest and most negative can be prominent reform advocates, and something about human nature makes that approach work.
     Certainly I've been vocal about some ways I believe education should change, and I can be a bit idealistic, even pollyannaish, about the power of a meaningful education. I also realize my perspective comes from inside that independent school bubble, a lens which certainly skews my perspective. I don't think it lessens the point I hope to make here. Lately I've been wondering about how we sometimes go about trying to improve things.
     Typically we snatch onto the latest and greatest and preach about it being transformational. Then we do it again. And again. I suspect that happens for many related reasons. We hear something is broken, and we want it fixed. We're entranced by newness. We want the best for students. We want to believe in the promise.
     I still believe in the promise. But I don't believe true, lasting transformation occurs through just one thing or very quickly. Either the change has to burrow into one's soul, or it's already there and needs ways to emerge. Plus any single approach seldom works for everyone at one time, or for anyone at all times.
     There may be exceptions, but transformation seems to happen like innovation: assorted bits and pieces come together over time, eventually combining in something new (as explained in Steven Johnson's Where Good Ideas Come From). It's made me wonder if we should be taking sort of a strengths-finder approach to educational progress, working to scale all the promising work being done in schools. That generates positive energy.
     With that in mind, here is a list of exciting things which are trending in schools currently. It's what occurs to me as I'm typing, so certainly incomplete. But perhaps you'll feel affirmed and/or inspired by something on it.

• Project-based learning
• Increased concern with student's holistic well-being
• Blended learning
• Coding and robotics
• Schools dropping APs
• Colleges eliminating testing requirements
• Design thinking
• Community gardens and outdoor learning spaces
• Flexible learning spaces
• Social-emotional learning
• Mastery and competency based standards
• Real-world connections and internships
• Service learning
• Alternate/authentic assessment
• Brain-based learning
• Emphasis on creativity
• Wider, deeper understanding and acceptance of diversity

Some of these can have a larger impact more quickly than others. Some naturally work together. The real power, though, lies in the cumulative effect. What also matters greatly, maybe most importantly, are the conversations surrounding them. I hope this may inspire some of your own learning and growth for the year.

     Whichever path you choose, keep in mind the most vital, potentially transformative aspect of being an educator. The lationship with a student. Nothing else works or really matters without that.

Autodidactic Leadership Development

                The spring 2018 issue of Independent School magazine focused on leadership. As always, the articles highlighted the excellent work going on in many schools while prompting thoughts about ways to improve one’s own school. The story highlighted on the cover is “How Did You Learn to Be a Leader?” Naturally the question prompted some reflection.

                The question implies a professional development angle—or at least I jump to that conclusion because of how we often think of adults’ growth in schools. We assign mentors, talk about training, sit through workshops, attend conferences. Often it’s done in doses of varying sizes; sometimes it’s a single shot. I think this has been particularly true when it comes to leadership, particularly because the idea of distributed leadership is fairly new in most of our cultures. Unless someone were tapped as having leadership potential and quite intentionally mentored, or the person went to certain programs, I don’t think they received much leadership training.

                Even for those who received more extensive leadership training, it is limited. I don’t mean limited in its effectiveness or potential help. I mean limited in that it’s not enough. I assert that as one who has benefited greatly from attentive mentors and quality workshops. I also say this because I’ve come to believe everyone is ultimately responsible for their own development. Optimal learning requires some degree of autodidactic impulse.

                If you accept my premise, you’re likely wondering what are some practices that can enhance one’s leadership training. I’m going to offer some ideas, but with the caveat that you need to design an intentional program per your own needs.

• Observation—Even if you have a fantastic mentor, that person can teach you only so much because of both human and practical limitations. To augment the mentoring, you can use other people as quasi-mentors without their even being aware through observation. Watch people you both admire and question as leaders. Study where they shine and where they misstep. Pay attention to not just large moments, but also the little things.
•  Read—Neurological studies have shown the brain lights up during reading the same way it does when we dream. That’s fitting, as one of the main things a leader must do is dream. Reading can help inspire those dreams through the sort of extensive exposure we cannot gain any other way. In a more immediate sense, reading allows for another form of mentoring as you encounter unique situations and people/characters. Also, extend your leadership reading beyond the typical leadership books. Many are much too simplistic. Instead, read history, biography, memoir, autobiography, fiction, poetry, social sciences, hard sciences—anything that is going to extend your learning.
•  Self-Awareness—We all have our strengths and weaknesses. But how aware of them are we? How much do we accept them? Work on them? Leaders need people who will challenge them, whether regarding ideas or behavior. Professional coaches, good friends, therapists—each can play a vital role in a leader’s development by prompting deeper reflection about one’s personal qualities and how they affect relationships on every level. Also, the point is not to change your essential core. It’s about growing as a person so you can grow as a leader.
• Proactivity—You may be given clear opportunities to develop your leadership. It may be some sort of position, the chance to run a project, to serve as a peer-evaluator. It could be just about anything. The key is to take the chance and make the most of it. Even if you have this chance—and especially if you don’t—it’s vital to be pro-active and seek opportunities to exercise leadership. Perhaps you see a need and have some ideas on how to address it. Perhaps you foster greater collaboration among colleagues. Whatever it is, show that you are committed to helping your institution improve.

                 These are just some ideas, ones which have served me well. They may or may not help you. Despite what often seems like popular belief, leadership isn’t limited to a certain type of person. In fact, studies have shown that often the most effective leaders for long-term success do not fit the stereotypical image.  Effective leadership often comes down to being a particular type of person in a particular place at a particular time for a particular purpose, all in alignment.

                Finally, no matter what type of person you are, reflect deeply and honestly about why you want to lead.  Yes, most leaders feel called in some regard. The question is why. If it’s about pumping up your ego, think some more. The best leadership is about some higher meaning and purpose. It’s about moving towards some ideal. Thus, in a way this entire post becomes somewhat ironic given its focus on the self. Great leaders learn to shrink themselves so that others may grow.

               

End-of-Year, Heading-into-Summer Charge to St. John's Episcopal Employees

What follows is the text of my end-of-year, heading-into-summer charge to St. John's Episcopal employees. They lost something without the slides, but you'll get the gist.

            I always find these end-of-year remarks a big challenge. It’s a crazy-busy time, and we’re all running on fumes. But it’s more than that. In reality, a large part of me has been in 17-18 and beyond mode for quite a while. It’s part of my job. Plus I’m just always thinking “What’s next?”, my mind racing in an educationally nerdy mania. I can’t seem to stop imagining what’s possible. Also, I must admit part of me is already hiking around Tahoe and Yosemite. I’m hoping for that combination of relaxation, exertion, and inspiration I enjoyed last year in the Tetons. But the biggest challenge is trying to grab and hold your attention on the first day of June.

We’ve had another wildly successful year by multiple measures. You saw, I hope, the email which went to families and captured many of them in broad strokes. I encourage you to take time to celebrate your own particular successes. Share them with each other and with people who need to know about St. John’s.  This year has provided further compelling evidence of how we continue to become better and better at creating the type of modern education students need in the emerging world. Yes, it’s really hard work. But it’s also vitally important work. It’s thus really fulfilling work.

            Of course, we still have more to do. The pace of summer is different, but those who talk about educators having the summers off just don’t get it. Whether doing tangible work or not, the best educators seldom let school drift far from their thoughts. Summer is when we have the time to do some of the most important work—the sort of reflection and musing so essential to progress. My objective today is to prod you with a question I hope you will ponder at different points during the lulls of your summer. If not often, at least during the summer reading of Launch.  It’s a sneaky question, one which in its ideal form would be rhetorical, the answer so patently obvious we would need to think about it as often as we think about our hearts beating. But I believe it’s an essential one for us to grapple with if we are to keep evolving as a school.

            Here’s why. Like Snoopy, when it comes to big, hairy questions—and there are plenty of them--too often the education world in general avoids them. At St. John’s, I’m glad to say, we don’t. We understand how important they are. So we think about them. We keep them and our mission and ideals in mind, at least subconsciously. But we must admit we sometimes lose sight of them in our busyness. We have to avoid that as much as we can. We also have to be honest in how we answer them. Both easier said than done.

            I know what you’re thinking: okay, Mark, so what’s the question? I’m getting to it. Just one more tiny preamble. In priming you to think about it, I’m going to talk about education in very general terms, with many sweeping statements, as I did a moment ago. You need to think about how it applies to us as a school and to you as individuals.

            Now that the suspense is killing you… The question is: Who owns the learning?

            I most recently began thinking about this question when I came across Alan November’s book Who Owns the Learning?  I haven’t read it, but I know it focuses on empowering students through digital technology. I love that premise, but we’re being professionally and intellectually lazy if we don’t think beyond that. It’s too easy, and even irresponsible, to provide the quick and obvious “right” answer, one perhaps sprung from wishful thinking as much as reality. As we formulate our own answers, we must think about the goals of the learning. Those determine in large part who should own the learning.

            Yes, the students, of course. But do they? Can they? Do adults—teachers and parents—allow them to? Do we do so as much as we could? As much as we could? What if we allowed for them to own it more? What could school be like? I find myself thinking of Mark Twain’s famous quotation, “I never let my schooling interfere with my education.” Recently Sir Ken Robinson updated this when he said, “Children love to learn; they just don’t like to be educated.”

            For all of us—from a newborn to a senior citizen—learning seems to peak when it’s natural, joyful; when we become caught up in those flow experiences. Most often that happens when learning is self-driven, or at least set up in a way that taps into our natural curiosity and motivation. Maslow sees such learning as essential in the hierarchy of human needs.

            I wonder how often school allows this to happen. More importantly, I wonder how much schools do that actually counters this. Sometimes we become what one person calls “tourist teachers.” Rather than letting students explore, we give them all sorts of maps, literal and metaphorical, to direct their paths. Perhaps that’s because for so long schools have been the gatekeepers to knowledge, as if we were protecting something sacred to which students need a secret access code. Accumulate enough baubles, the shinier the better—think high grades and AP courses, for just two examples—and you could be declared educated. But that’s not really the same as being learned, or knowing how to learn. And I’m not sure we’ve thought enough about actual, genuine learning. Instead, think about the demands that school and life piles on young people nowadays. It’s no wonder that mindfulness has become a hot topic. I’m glad the issue is being addressed. But maybe we should be asking why we’re driving kids crazy in the first place. I think it has something to do with how our society mistakenly has associated quality learning with more, faster, harder—what we label greater rigor. Meanwhile, we want to control it all in the name of high standards. But a standardized education serves neither anyone nor our culture well.

            The digital revolution, like other things before, was supposed to change all this. I wonder. Yes, there are myriad positives. In particular, digital technology makes the ability to learn anything ubiquitous and easy. We can make extensive connections. It truly is awesome. But digitalization in and of itself does not necessarily mean better. In fact, it can simply exacerbate the focus on efficiency and uniformity which has driven education for so long. Bad practice is bad practice, whether real or virtual. Clicking through stuff as you navigate the shallows is not ownership, and it is far too easy to create one’s own echo chamber, deafening any dissent that could lead to learning. And I would argue right now this is one of our nation’s worst afflictions.

            Why is owning the learning so important? It keeps us curious. It fuels a growth mindset. It emboldens us to take on challenges. Studies show the best leaders are voracious learners. Nowadays we all must learn constantly to keep up with the rate of change. In his book Where Good Ideas Come From, Steven Johnson delineates how for most of the 20^th century, innovation followed the 10/10 rule: ten years to build a platform, 10 years for it to gain acceptance. Now, with technology and the internet, innovation follows the 1/1 rule.

            In some ways, innovation is synonymous with learning. As Johnson delineates, innovation does not come in a sudden flash, that proverbial light bulb moment. Instead, it comes through a connection of existing parts and ideas in new ways. So we’re better served by connecting ideas rather than protecting them because if you want more new ideas, scatter more stuff on the table. Learning opens new paths to explore—without a clear map—novel ways of combining parts. It creates what Johnson calls a “sense of the adjacent possible.”

            That concept makes me think we should flip one way of thinking about learning. We should not think about it as measured by an exit ticket. Perhaps we should evoke a sense of learning as an entry ticket into the adjacent possible.  Of what learning can be and where it can lead. Or what it can mean for students and their potential. All of our human, cultural, and global potential.

            That desire, I think, is the whole impetus driving the maker movement, which led into other associated ideas such as project-based learning and design thinking. I believe it’s a clear attempt to take ownership of creating and learning. It’s not just about making things. It’s about the making of a self. This process and outlook should not be restricted to a makerspace or certain units. It should infuse our entire approach throughout the school.

            That doesn’t mean we succumb to some sort of curricular or pedagogical anarchy. When I think about who owns the learning, I believe we all should. After all, young folks need our guidance…but only to a certain degree. We know what they need—emphasis on need—to learn to become the Portrait of our Graduate. At the same time, we have to keep exploring ourselves, seeking that sweet spot between guidance and autonomy, between control and freedom.  So to me the real question—the one I hope you spend some time wrestling with this summer—becomes: How do we help students own more and more of the learning?

High Hopes for #NAISAC 2017

       Surely you've heard, likely even felt or uttered, the idea that leaving a conference with one great takeaway makes the experience worthwhile. I'm guilty of that. I say "guilty" because that attitude, which creeps towards cynicism, accepts a rather low placement of the bar. We should expect more. With the 2017 National Association of Independent Schools Annual Conference beginning in two days, I've been thinking about words that capture my high hopes for the experience:

• Dynamism. Some schools finally are changing in significant, far-reaching ways. even shattering some traditional models. I want to sense an upsurge in that sort of energy. It has to propel us to create a system in which we constantly are re-thinking, re-designing, re-birthing ourselves.
• Courage. Whether in the development of truly innovative programs (as suggested above) or in creating safe havens for people who feel threatened, I crave stories that embolden us. I want new heroes to venerate.
• Vulnerability. Tied to courage, I want to know the struggles, the failures, the fears. Risk, if it's worthwhile, entails amenability. Too often in sharing our triumphs we gloss over this. But it's in staring it down and proceeding that we grow stronger.
• Serendipity. If we remain open to possibilities, the chances of serendipity increase. Where and when might you hear some amazing idea? What old friend might you meet up with? What new connection might you make?
• Gasp-worthy. At least once I want to be truly awed, to feel that visceral "Wow!". That would be the gem, each facet radiant with the previous four bullets.

       Ultimately, all these point to what we all want to find every year at annual conference: an injection of inspiration, right into an artery through which it surges to the very tips of our fingers and toes and neurons. Inspiration which nourishes us with those essential vitamins and minerals of school leadership, oft-depleted at this time of year. Yet one of the most amazing things about this conference is that while it pulls together hundreds of folks who need this inspiration, they manage at the same time to provide so much of it.

From PD to the Classroom

       We have our interim reports due to our accrediting agencies, and one of the questions asks us to describe the school's approach to professional development, along with a summary of some specific examples. Just to see what people would say, I sent a query to all St. John's employees. While I'm always proud of the people here, their responses made me especially so. I was struck not only by the incredible amount of professional development they had done--whether as part of our in-house activities or own their own--but also by how much they had reflected on it and grown as educators through it. It epitomized a communal growth mindset.
       One other point made an impression on me: the incredible range of activities.People had read books, articles, blogs. Attended conferences and workshops. Collaborated with colleagues here and elsewhere. Studied YouTube videos. Joined groups on Pinterest. Attended an EdCamp. Set up professional portfolios. Visited other classes and schools. Joined Twitter to follow threads and participate in chats. Those are just the things popping into my mind right now, and I know there are others. Furthermore, great range existed within each of those activities.
       In many ways, we're talking about the ideal learning scenario. People were operating under some broad objectives tied to our vision for the school. But at the same time, they could pursue learning per their particular motivation and and personalities and preferences. Because of that, people embraced the professional development opportunities and actually, well, developed.
       And if it's good for adults, might it not be good for kids? Yes, the question is rhetorical. So now I'm wondering how might we make more of the student experience work that way?

Both Leadership and Followership

            I suspect that at some point just about every American child has been urged, “Be a leader, not a follower.” Schools promise to produce leaders; some even have incorporated it as part of their missions. Current leadership espouses distributed leadership. The idea is that everyone can be a leader in some form or fashion. How it manifests itself depends on context.

            I embrace such thinking for several reasons. It chips away at traditional notions of leadership, many of which emphasize particular personality traits and hierarchy over other qualities. It’s more respectful of diverse individualism and nurtures greater motivation and commitment. Progress can come faster as more people paddle together. So I fully agree that we should be helping people learn how to lead better. My concern is with what we incorrectly put at the other end of the spectrum.

            Follower is a pejorative. I understand why, given the way we often use it and the subsequent connotation. Certainly we don’t want someone to be simply a follower. However, I have a simply contention, albeit one that may initially seem counter intuitive. Just as we strive to teach leadership, we should be teaching wise followership. Who and how one follows factors heavily into one’s leadership, both as it initially forms and its evolution.

            I’ve pondered this notion for a long time, and I’ve touched upon it briefly in various posts. Always present in my thinking to some degree, it’s come to the forefront recently as I’ve read a preview copy of Stephen Valentine and Reshan Richard’s book coming this July, Blending Leadership: Six Simple Beliefs for Leading Online and Off. (It’s a wonderful book with excellent insights about leadership in general, and I recommend people purchase a copy as soon as it comes out.)Two passages rekindled my thoughts on this topic. They write, “Our beliefs emerged from many places: from our own practice and observation; from the Ahmads who entered our lives with curiosity and playfulness, pushing us to turn over our perspectives; from our own leading and teaching, from our own leadership anthropology; from continual conversations with each other and with people at conferences and with authors we have only read. As we have tried things or tried them on and looked around or listened or succeeded or failed, belief statements cohered” (27). Shortly after, they point out that school leaders “not only follow thought leaders, but also engage actively with them, building off their work, their thinking, as if it were a platform” (36).

            In so many ways, we become who we follow, consciously and unconsciously. It can be as large as adopting philosophies and practices to imitating physical mannerisms and verbal tics. It’s how we learn, beginning the moment we become aware of ourselves and others as unique beings, becoming stronger as we develop a sense of the person we wish to become. The danger comes when we lost that sense of self and begin to follow blindly, unthinkingly. Instead, it must be reflective, critical, challenging. It must hoist one out of any echo chamber.*

            Essentially, it’s about learning. About oneself and about others and about the endless interactions between all those pieces.  About possibilities. And the greatest possibilities are realized when we both lead and follow well.

__________

*There are, of course, many ways one can practice good followership. Ideally, I would share some here. However, I think that would become too long a tangent from the principal arc of the post. Perhaps the next post…

Grateful Expectations for #NAISAC 2016

       Thanks for a great NAIS Annual Conference this year! Thanks to NAIS staff, the planning committee, the on-line community folks, the presenters, the attendees, anyone I've forgotten. I'm saying this now because I might forget later.
       True, the conference hasn't actually even started yet, but you know it's going to be awesome. It always is. Granted, some sessions may not be that enthralling--they may even reek--and the wi-fi may prove incapable of handling the crush. But download the app and read through the program. The breadth and depth of offerings is staggering, and it's really your own fault if you return home without any ideas you can somehow use in your schools. Set up meals and conversations (not meetings, not chats--real conversations) with people you wish you had more time with during the whirlwind of daily life. Maybe you can meet the real person who sustains that provocative blog or has mastered the art of the Tweet. Whatever your preferred style, connect with the conference.
       An experience last week reminded me of just how crucial this is. I participated in a three-hour on-line leadership program led by Seth Godin. Along with admiring his work, I wanted to see what such an undertaking would be like. It was intense and fantastic. I was in a group with people from around the world, and they gave of each other generously. At the end we joked about gathering somewhere for dinner, and a few of us now follow each other on social media.
       Yet it also was unsatisfying in a key way. Beyond wanting to become better leaders, we had little in common. That's why, despite all the predictions about the death of big conferences, I don't see that happening. Great power exists in a group of people coming together, particularly when they pursue a mission tinged with the quixotic. For that I'm the most grateful.

Cross-posted on NAIS Annual Conference 2016 OnLine Community.

The Linchpin Educator

            Recently I’ve immersed myself in some work with a group designing a new program for independent school leadership. One guiding premise stresses non-titular leadership. As part of that, I revisited some of Seth Godin’s work. While I read his blog each day, I decided to re-read three books: Tribes, Linchpin, and Stop Stealing Dreams. Tribes explores groups connected to each other, a leader, and an idea. Linchpin considers the indispensable employee. Stop Stealing Dreams is a manifesto about traditional schooling. Together, they prompted me to try identifying the key qualities of a linchpin educator.

            Three of Godin’s regular themes apply here. First, digital technology changes everything, meaning we should re-examine old models. Second, Godin contends everyone has the potential and means to lead in meaningful fashion. The question is not whether someone could lead. It is will that person lead. Then come matters of what, where, when, and how. Third, merely answering those questions affirmatively falls short. One must produce and ship their particular form of art, the way in which their work touches and changes people.

            Those who do become linchpins. As Godin explains,

What the boss really wants is an artist, someone who changes everything, who makes dreams come true. What the boss really wants is someone who can see the reality of today and describe a better tomorrow. What the boss really wants is a linchpin.

If he can’t have that, he’ll settle for a cheap drone. (Linchpin, 38)

           

That passage comes a few pages after the following:

Let me be really clear: Great teachers are wonderful. They change lives. We need them. The problem is that most schools don’t like great teachers. They’re organized to stamp them out, bore them, bureaucratize them, and make them average. (29)

In Stop Stealing Dreams Godin thoroughly derides the assembly line model of education. I’d add this is not just a school problem but a societal problem, in that cultures have created their typical school in a way that reveals beliefs and values. Consider what resonates in a politician’s platform regarding education. Ultimately, schools are human constructs.

            Of course, that means humans could change them, provided we muster the collective fortitude. That’s where linchpins come in.

So what makes for a linchpin educator? Nothing in the following is about the nuts-and-bolts of teaching, although those matter. But they can be learned and really are secondary. Much more important are certain personal qualities. We need people who can enhance, perhaps even transform education through shaping a particular type of culture.

Curriculum as Markers

            The etymology of the term curriculum refers to a set path. Through time, as more and more traverse a path, the ruts become deeper; a traveler can have a harder time deviating from the preferred route. In education this has played out in greater standardization, the curriculum becoming almost a script for the teacher. Content becomes paramount, and pedagogy takes on a degree of mechanization.

            To a linchpin educator, however, curriculum serves only as markers. It provides a general sense of direction, but the educator wants to embark on expeditions with the students, often through exploring interesting problems. The linchpin not only ignores the map, but shreds it. After all, here during the fourth industrial revolution, we have no reliable maps.

Questions Trump Answers

            As a general rule, questions can be organized into two categories. The first require factual answers, those sort of lower-order bits of recall that may win someone a Trivial Pursuit game. The second provoke higher-level analysis. Perhaps discourse of some sort may help articulate the stages of determining a possible answer. They don’t work on bubble tests or robo-graded essays.

            These questions beget even more beautiful questions in some sort of epistemological evolution. They allow us to unlock even the thorniest problems. They urge us to question everything. A linchpin educator swims in a sea brimming with “What if’s…” and “How might we’s…,” all the while yelling, “Come on in! The water’s fine!”

Appreciate Weird

            We shy away from weird. Even sometimes its less-threatening synonyms such as unusual, novel, original. It defies our created limits, and thus we cannot measure it. That rocks the stability of the average. We feel unsafe because of how it scoffs at our expectations.

            The linchpin educator embraces the specialness in that which is unique. The English teacher who sees beyond the misspellings or usage errors to see the passion, the imagery. The math and science teachers who delight in a loopy proof or wacky hypothesis and cheer, “Give it a go!” After all, they reason, a standardized education fosters standardized people…and we have plenty of those.

Comfort with Discomfort

            Fear, confusion, lack of certainty, resentment, jealousy, anger (on all sides)—the discomfort can manifest itself in these and many other ways. It’s resistance. It comes from those comfortable with the status quo, and even those who aren’t but feel secure. Or the resistance might be internal, the lizard brain gnashing its fangs and spitting venom, fed by cynics.

            The linchpin educator, though, continues to create art, both drawing on rich traditions and experimenting with new forms. Just as an education should, the best art jars us into a new consciousness. It broadens and deepens our perspectives. It does so through taking risks mitigated by idealism and faith.

A Shrunken Head

            All of this requires a secure, under-control ego. Recall the function of a linchpin: to hold other pieces in place so that the whole can function. Ultimately, school is not about teaching. It’s about learning. Ideally, everyone’s learning. Ironically, an oversized head gets in the way of learning. Egocentricity causes someone to wrest too much control, to reject possibilities, to lessen others. It becomes about the I.

            The best educators shrink so that others may grow. It is about us and them. They challenge and affirm, reflect and imagine, prick and caress. In urging people to become better, they invoke our higher selves. Linchpin educators thus give us gifts wrapped in passion.

At the core, how a school functions depends on the relationships and interactions among all its constituents. Right now I’m imagining the utter awesomeness of working in a school full of such people. More importantly, I’m thinking about how truly joyful that school would be for kids. I see them emerging as the people who solve all our current and future problems. And some of those kids will grow up and become educators, and we’ll have more and more such schools. And then more and more flywheels will spin faster and faster, each held in place by a linchpin educator.

Affirmation Through Absence: Thoughts on #NAISAC 2015

     I'm writing this post somewhat out of guilt. I had been honored to be selected as one of the official bloggers for the NAIS Annual Convention this year. But I ended up not making it to the convention this year--the second year in a row. Of course, I'm sorry to have missed it. Last year it was for health reasons (all better now). This year weather messed with my schedule and I needed to stay in Dallas. Based on the last couple of days, that's probably just as well, given my need to be back and how many haven't been able to fly in because of snow and ice. It's also leading to an interesting "experiment," which I'll try to capture in this post.
     We know technology has changed how we do so many things, some of which we couldn't do before. Once I knew I couldn't attend the conference, I wondered how well I could gain a sense of events through social media and a few phone calls afterwards. I'm very grateful to all the people who posted on the community site and the many people tweeting. I've also seen some great photos; I especially liked the close-ups of the work done by the graphic artists.What follows are the points I gleaned as perhaps dominating the conversations. I know they are heavily influenced by whom I follow, and for someone else these might be very different. I also add a bit of my own reaction.

• As one would expect when the conference theme is "Design the Revolution," there seemed to be loads of sessions and energy around design thinking. That's awesome, and more and more people seem willing to embrace this approach. At the same time, I sensed some worry that eventually it will fade away as other buzzwords do. There seemed a mix of whether or not the point of empathy with the user was lost at times. If that's the case, and we end up, for example, just redesigning curricula, I think we've missed the point. After all, even before we knew the term design thinking, aren't the basic principles of it what we are supposed to have been doing all along?
• People had a mixed reaction to the panel of college presidents, with some thrilled they were acknowledging issues, but many others feel they were not accepting their part in the issue or offering any solutions. I don't think we can count too much on them to do so, as they feel the same pressures many independent schools do. I wonder how we balance our idealism and our realism.
• Tied to that notion, loads of verbiage about having the courage to make big changes, debate about whether significant change is hard or uncomfortable, whether teachers or administrators are the more willing or loath to make such things happen. One thought I have is that until we bridge that last gulf--along with breaking other real and imagined constructs--it likely won't happen. It comes down to getting the culture right before anything can happen. That, and as I've written many times, truly embracing our independence.
• Quite a few complaints about "boring" sessions which failed to include any real engaged and active learning. That's worrisome, for it makes me wonder how people still doing things that way are going to design any sort of revolution. For that reasons, among others, I also wonder about this idea of revolution. Our schools do many things right, and I think we also need to look at progress in relation to where a school starts. Plus, constantly changing too much, too fast always makes me wonder if a school truly knows itself. The change must be thoughtful and measured to be meaningful. Having said that, I'll contradict myself and admit I often want it to happen much faster. As a head, it's tough to know how to strike the right pace and balance (a topic I'm planning for another post soon).

Finally, I realize an eternal truth once again. It's a great one for us to be reminded of quite regularly. It's a notion that Lori Carroll captured in an earlier post about the #isedchat Tweetup in Boston. For all the talk about more education being on-line and the end of giant conferences, I don't believe it will happen to the extreme that some people imagine. There is simply something essential about the communal experience of coming together for a common and admirable goal. Kids need that from their schools, and we need that as independent school educators.

     For that reason, I fully intend to be at annual next year, and I hope to be asked to blog so I can make up for dereliction of duty this year. In the meantime, I'd love to know if I captured the flavor of this year's event and what I missed.

Cross-Posted on 2015 NAIS Annual Conference Online Community

A Further Thought on #EdJourney

     A few days ago I posted "First Thoughts on #EdJourney." It wasn't really a review of Grant Lichtman's new book--just some of the larger ideas it prompted and some of what I guess could be called cautionary notes about how people might miss some of the more important ideas. That could occur mainly because it's easy to become focused strictly on the many wonderful examples from different schools. Almost as soon as I posted, a new idea about the book occurred to me. Not just about the book, but about the entire project that has led to the book.
     Grant set out in search of innovation in schools. He found plenty of it, sometimes in little pockets, sometimes in sweeping models. We now have this wonderful book as a product. But we also need to think about the process. Both literally and analogously, we have a wonderful model for the type of learning that should be going on in our schools.
     Consider, in no particular order:

• The entire idea begins with a giant question about education and is a deep, wide exploration. Questions beget more questions, with ongoing reflection and generative thinking. "How might we..?" and "What if..?" never cease to peel away more layers. 
• Rather than merely muse inwardly, Grant looks outward, connecting with the much larger world in a search for understanding.
• In doing so, he forges multiple connections with people all over and brings in varied perspectives. He refers to myriad sources. In a sense, while Grant is the sole author, one gains a sense of collaboration.
• That happens because Grant let us share the experience and comment on it through social media. Reading his blog, for instance, was like reading his drafts as they developed. We see his thought processes.
• Speaking of his blog, Grant utilized the best technology tools at his disposal, from his Prius and iPhone to his blog and Twitter. Of course, he also went through dozens of the old stand-by: legal pads and post-its.
• The book is a creative endeavor. The whole thing is a creative endeavor.
• The work is highly relevant, and the contribution to the field is meaningful.
• The quest leads not just to accumulation of knowledge, but to some new wisdom.

     When you consider the entirety of the project, Grant is both student and teacher. He writes about the schools he visits,

"I increasingly hear teachers and their students talking about the adults becoming 'lead learners' and 'co-learners' along side their students...teachers develop a view of themselves as participating in a constantly evolving journey of exploration with their students, as opposed to teachers' traditional role of providing knowledge to their students" (104-5).

He has given us many models--including himself.

     So here's a thought. A challenge if you will. Obviously we can't send students off to drive around the country on their own. But how might we design learning experiences just as full of purposeful discovery?

The Teachers I Most Appreciate On-Line

     For my annual post during Teacher Appreciation Week, I've decided to take a different approach. After all, in the past I've written about my two greatest teachers; and I often refer to other teachers, coaches, and colleagues. Usually they are figures from my past. Fortunately, I also have current mentors and role models. For this piece, I'm also thinking about how the digital revolution has opened incredible possibilities for learning. In that context my driving question becomes "What sort of teachers do I most appreciate on-line?" For me that means mainly blogs and Twitter.
     While perhaps I should not begin with the negative, I want to state right away what I don't like. It's not much--there are just two things--but they truly rankle. First, I don't like what I can only describe as a form of self-centeredness. It manifests itself in some key ways. Tweets are strictly self-promotional. In the same vein, someone requests information but never supplies information in response to someone else's queries. A person ignores basic etiquette. (Fortunately, I don't encounter too many people who operate this way; when I do, I choose to ignore.)  Second, I don't like pieces that are overly definitive, i.e. "The Six Surefire Ways to..." Nothing is that simple. At least nothing worthwhile. These two dislikes often overlap in ways that point at the heart of what I do like.
     As a place to learn, the true beauty of the digital world is access. That holds for both quantity and variety. Plus the information links in all sort of intentional and random fashion. The structure forces one to spin a web of meaning. Despite what some promise, ultimate answers remain elusive, perhaps non-existent. In that way it is analogous to life in ways few school curricula are.
     My favorite on-line teachers are those who not only acknowledge such intellectual murkiness but actually embrace it. They are the truly honest bloggers, the ones who are willing to share the struggle and thus admit their own shortcomings and even vulnerability. They dine upon a smorgasbord of feeds and draw nutrition from each. They are the Tweeters who share all types of resources and challenge each other in chats and celebrate the virtues of others.
     Society often confuses learning with achieving a certain end. To an extent this is accurate if we're talking short term or one has a simple task to complete. However, such a misconception underlies many of the problems with educational systems. We must understand and embrace the opposite notion. Optimal learning is not linear, zeroed in a particular goal. It loops, twists, starts and stops. It's also about unlearning. It's about having the guts to ask dangerous questions that may force answers which drive us off the intended course but right where we need to go at any given time on an endless journey.
     For a society to prosper fully, it needs a spirited life of the mind. That cannot be just pockets of citizenry. It must be the culture. Standard operating procedure. So those qualities of the teachers I most appreciate on-line? Exactly what we also need off-line. Those great teachers understand it's about truly meaningful learning.

   

Not a Connected Educator?

     Irony prevails in my writing this post now, the penultimate day in Connected Educator Month. For the past couple of months, I have felt less connected, at least in the technological sense. I've been posting less frequently. I've been reading fewer blogs. I've reviewed Twitter less often, have missed some chats I wanted to participate in, and tweeted less frequently and with less discernment. My detachment has been neither intentional nor borne of laziness. In fact, I've just suddenly realized what's been happening. It's been a case of, as I often say, "Life intrudes."
     It's also ironic in that just about anyone reading this post probably already has grasped its basic message. Perhaps those folks can pass it on, use it to support the cause, maybe even convert someone.
     Because I've been so busy, I can't say that I've really missed my usual on-line activity. That would imply an awareness that didn't exist. But now that the fog is clearing, I've begun reflecting on the notion of being a connected educator. That leads me to one direct question:

Why wouldn't you be a connected educator?

     I remember my early days as a teacher during the mid-1980s. I was in Lafayette, Louisiana, and I had little contact with other independent school people. Budget and location limited professional development opportunities. Yet I was an inexperienced, hungry teacher craving a steady diet of implementable guidance beyond the general mentoring I received. My primary source of inspiration became The National Council of Teachers of English. I would devour the issues of English Journal. More than that, I looked forward to the quarterly arrival of Ideas Plus, in which teachers from all over shared ideas for lessons. I would study it carefully, making tons of notes and then writing reflective pieces. All the information would then go into my lesson plan book, which was not your typical daily planner. Instead, I had it organized by category and theme (color-coded even, with shapes and numbers that allowed for cross referencing). It helped me grow tremendously as an educator. For years that served as my pedagogical bible.
     Now we have such resources available at all times, in all different formats, accessible in multiple ways. It's really quite remarkable how this has blossomed since I began teaching thirty years ago. Sometimes we seem to take for granted the amazing nature of being so connected and the  ways in which we have benefited. For instance, even though I haven't felt as connected the past several weeks, online experiences have been helping in my work, whether by referencing ideas picked up in chats or using images someone Tweeted out to make a point in a presentation. So the surface may seem different, but the connections have become deeply rooted. That's true even with people I've never met in person. Recently another head and I exchanged some great thoughts about failure, and I bantered with a dean from MA about his love for Oreos.
     So I have to ask again: Why wouldn't you be a connected educator? Well, I suspect my first paragraph is one reason. Life can become crazy busy in unexpected ways. Teaching is intensely demanding work, and there is life outside of school. Plus the first sentence of the previous paragraph is another reason I've heard people express. There's so much that it can become overwhelming.
     I accept both of those points as realities, but I do not see them as legitimate excuses. I always have believed that a committed educator's default mode should be one of constant improvement. The work is so important that we must keep learning how to do it better. Plus it's simply good role modelling to be the lead learner. This truism seems especially apt now, when constant flux has become the norm and the ability to learn in new ways is at a premium. To be perfectly direct, I see this as a basic requirement. I ask during interviews how a candidate does this. I'm not interested in hiring anyone who doesn't take advantage of opportunities to grow. That necessitates being connected in some fashion.
     Because I believe this, I also feel a responsibility to offer some advice to those who find it too difficult and/or don't know where to start. It's probably old to many folks, but could help those afraid to dive in.

• First, don't think of it as overwhelming. Think of the options as being like a teacher who is incredible at differentiating instruction. You don't have to tap into all the resources. I blog and love Twitter; but I've never used a Google hangout, Facebook, or LinkedIn. Try different things until you find what works for you.
• I'm certain in your school there are people savvy at being a connected educator. Connect with them first. No doubt they want to help. Knowing you, they can help you figure out where to start, help you navigate a path, and provide concrete tips.
• Even though many of us like to use Seth Godin's metaphor about there not being a map, I recommend you develop a plan focused on a few key objectives related to how you want to grow. That can help to determine the best path to follow.
• Similarly, be judicious in selecting those paths. For example, when I show people how to use Twitter effectively, I talk about selective following. Before you follow someone, look at the quality and frequency of their Tweeting to help you decide on its value to you. Plus you have to decide just how many people you can follow. 
• You also can let the tool help you. In another Twitter example, I encourage the use of columns set to search for certain hashtags. That highlights information related to what you want to learn. Another Twitter trick is, because chats can be overwhelming, to read just the archive. If you like blogs, use an aggregator such as Feedly to help you follow quality bloggers. That way you don't have to keep looking for new posts.
• Don't try to keep up with it all. Don't read deeply all the time. Skim along the surface and then decide when to dive.

I'm not bulleting my final point because it's not really just friendly advice. If you're not a connected educator, consider it more of an admonition. Why aren't you a connected educator? Could the real reason be discomfort? Fear? Fixed mindset? Whatever the reason, would you accept it from one of your students?