What if we nurtured the right things and the right ideas?

Each morning for the past few weeks I have been reading a daily meditation from “The Daily Stoic” by Ryan Holiday (who has also authored “Ego is the Enemy” and “The Obstacle is the Way” which are fantastic reads in and of themselves.) This morning’s piece resonated deeply with me.

“The human being is born with an inclination toward virtue.”- Musonis Rufus, Lectures 2.7.1-2

The notion of original sin has weighed down humankind for centuries. In reality, we’re made to help each other and be good to each other. We wouldn’t have survived as a species otherwise… You were born good. “All of us have been made by nature,” Rufus said, “so that we can live free from error and nobly- not that one can and another can’t, but all.” You were born with an attraction to virtue and self-mastery. If you’ve gotten far from that, it’s not out of some inborn corruption but from a nurturing of the wrong things and the wrong ideas.

As an educator, do you still believe in the virtues of our profession? How often do you focus on the wrong things and nurture the wrong mindsets and attitudes? How often do you remain fixated on the wrong things and the wrong idea? Do you continue to seek self-mastery through continued growth and learning? Teaching is hard. But you were born good. And you were born to make a difference.

What if we nurtured the right things and the right ideas?

Are we building walls or cathedrals?

In his book “Start with Why”, Simon Sinek shares the following story of two stonemasons.

“You walk up to the first stonemason and ask, “Do you like your job?” He looks up at you and replies “I’ve been building this wall for as long as I can remember. The work is monotonous. I work in the scorching hot sun all day. The stones are heavy and lifting them day after day can be backbreaking. I’m not even sure if this project will be completed in my lifetime. But it’s a job. It pays the bills.” You thank him for his time and walk on.

About thirty feet away, you walk up to a second stonemason. You ask him the same question , “Do you like your job?” He looks up and replies, “I love my job. I’m building a cathedral. Sure, I’ve been working on this wall for as long as I can remember, and yes, the work is sometimes monotonous. I work in the scorching hot sun all day. The stones are heavy and lifting them day after day can be backbreaking. I’m not even sure if this project will be completed in my lifetime. But I’m building a cathedral.”

WHAT these two stonemasons are doing is exactly the same; the difference is, one has a sense of purpose. He feels he belongs. He comes to work to be a part of something bigger than the job he’s doing. Simply having a sense of WHY changes his entire view of his job. It makes him more productive and certainly more loyal. “ (p 94-95)

In all of the rhetoric surrounding the successes and failures in public education today, a lack of true purpose or vision is the thread that ties and connects us all. Successful schools and successful school systems put the WHY first. And rarely is that WHY an external measure of success.

In the state of Pennsylvania, all schools receive an SPP score. That score is supposed to be an indicator of the success of that school. It is used as an accountability measure.  It can either be a point of shame or a point of pride. But what if it were neither?   What if it were just a number?

As educators, we often rail against “business” mindsets creeping into our language and cultures because we do not create products or widgets, we help others to learn and grow. Yet a book like Sinek’s remind us that success always comes from a focus on people and vision, not on the bottom line. If the bottom line in education is test scores, focusing on them may yield short term results with long term consequences. Evidence of that is clear in the hypocrisy of principals and teachers who hold up standardized test scores as evidence of their success when they meet or exceed the goal, while minimizing and dismissing them when they fall short. This type of thinking requires no one to change or consider how to grow themselves. And it’s pervasive these days.

Test scores are a byproduct of learning. They can not and should not be the goal. This is true of accountability as well, as it is a byproduct of responsibility. When we are responsible to the people in our classrooms and schools, the accountability will take care of itself because all members of the community believe in the WHY and are then responsible for the HOW's and WHAT's being taken care of. Ask yourself this: do test scores and accountability get you out of bed in the morning? No teacher goes into teaching as a profession for these purposes and they sure don't jump out of bed ready for their days with these goals in mind either.

In order for this to change, anyone who considers themselves a leader has to take a hard look in the mirror and determine if their district, school, and/or classroom has a true “WHY”. Has the WHY been communicated well? Do members of the organization and/or classroom believe in the WHY? Do they support the WHY? Do they trust the WHY? Do we filter all of the HOW’s and WHAT’s through that WHY?

And it's at this point where most of us will make some broad assumptions. We are clear on our WHY and we will assume that others are too. Are we willing to ask our stakeholders directly? Are we willing to use data/ metrics (that aren't test scores) to verify that our WHY is driving the work we ALL do? Are we willing to be faithfully reflective by comparing the culture we hope to have with one we actually have?

Whether we will admit it or not, all of us want to be a part of something bigger than ourselves. We all want to have a purpose. We all want to have value. And we all want to be proud. Yet our actions often fall short of these desires. It would be easy for each member of an organization to lay blame elsewhere. In fact, many of us do. Blame is laid at the hands of colleagues, principals, parents, district offices, legislatures, and sometimes sadly, kids themselves. Whether we like it or not, being a leader means being responsible for motivating and  inspiring those within the community/ organization to be passionate about the WHY.  This is as true in the (school) board room as it is in the classroom.

Yet if we all view ourselves as leaders in some capacity (and we should) , we have to question which stonemason we wish to be, and which one we are right now.   There is little argument that teaching is more difficult and complicated than it has ever been. Yet each of us have the power to think differently about those challenges. Are we in it for the job or are we in it because it’s a vocation (our one true calling)?  Are we teaching math or Matthew (Thanks Baruti Kafele)? Are we teaching stuff or designing learning experiences? Are we creating test takers or  growing learners?  Are we creating compliance or critical citizens? Are we creating consumers or producers? Are we creating apathy or hope?   Are we creating barriers or removing them? Are we building walls or are we building cathedrals?

What if we listened to Daniel Tiger?

(C) The Fred Rogers Foundation and PBS

If you are around young children, you no doubt know Daniel Tiger and his neighborhood friends. And if you grew up with Mr. Roger's Neighborhood. you will certainly know this cast of characters from the Land of Make Believe. My son Justin, who is two, loves Daniel Tiger,  Katerina Kittycat, O the Owl, and the rest. As parents, we love the messages the show sends and creates wonderful opportunities to talk, share, learn, and grow together as a family.  In fact, there is some research that indicates that Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood can actually help our preschooler to develop stronger empathy and social skills through viewing.

While it's certainly easy to tune out when hearing a song like "Find a Way to Play Together " when you've heard it for the umpteenth time, I have actually found myself paying attention to the lyrics. This could be because Justin has started to sing along and it helps me to make sense of what he is actually singing. It could also be because I just can't tune it out any longer.

Even though there are parents out there who may not like Daniel Tiger, I think we can all agree that he's not nearly as bad as Caillou.

When I was younger, I read a book called "All I Really Need to Know I Learned In Kindergarten" by Robert Fulghum. Essentially, it was a collection of essays reminding us that we overcomplicate our lives and that we should embrace being present with one another. I found it poignant then and still often think about how much of our adult lives would be better spent trying to embrace those social-emotional lessons that were the heart of preschool and kindergarten learning.

In many ways, I have found that same poignancy in the songs and messages of Daniel Tiger.  It's easy to dismiss a cartoon and songs as "just for kids", but I will argue that the vitriol and lack of common courtesy and kindness this election cycle has produced should be proof positive we need to listen to Daniel and his friends. Being nice to one another, being able to disagree without being disagreeable, and sharing ideas with one another are just as important for adults. Check just about any message board or facebook post and it should be alarmingly obvious it may be MORE important for adults.

As educators, there are tons of great messages too. In an era of misguided and harmful policy and implementation, it can be hard to find much worth holding onto. Yet, Daniel reminds us that  Friends Help Each Other, Yes They Do!, and that When Something Seems Bad, Turn It Around and Find Something Good!. He also explains that When We Do Something New, Let's Talk About What We'll Do and that we should Stop, Think, and Choose.

My intention is not to diminish the professionalism of teachers by referencing a show for pre-schoolers. Teaching has become a complicated minefield of challenges and difficulties and those who are not in schools do not necessarily understand how different the politics of teaching is today compared to 15 years ago.  Statistics tell us that fewer and fewer college graduates are entering the teaching profession and morale is at an all time low. And any teacher who hears Daniel sing   When you have to go Potty, Stop and Go Right Away! is silently laughing to themselves because they recognize they chose  a profession which hardly allows for bathroom breaks or even a lunch break that does not involve supporting students, making parent phone calls, or answering the plethora of emails mounting in their inbox.

As we begin a new school year, my hope for teachers everywhere is to be a little bit like Daniel Tiger. Remember what it felt like to learn with your friends, to play, to imagine, to wonder, and to look for the good in everything.  Bring that type of joy and learning to your classroom.

What if we listened to Daniel Tiger?

What if we treated every day like the first day of school?

Although the students in our district are not officially starting for two more weeks, today was my "first day of school" as I, along with several of my colleagues, begin to work with the new teachers to our district.  And although I do not formally teach students I still found myself struggling to fall asleep last night and rising early this morning in anticipation and excitement.

A few hours ago, a group of diverse, excited, nervous, and anxious new colleagues walked through the door ready to begin their learning journey here. Most of them have taught before. Some of them are brand new to the profession. Some of them will be here next year. Some of them will be elsewhere in new opportunities. 

The first day with new teachers is a whirlwind. The first week with new teachers in our "academy" can be intense. But it also creates an opportunity to forge new relationships and establish our own little culture of support that leads into a job-embedded instructional coaching model. As a teacher myself, I am grateful that we have the opportunity to lead and learn alongside these new colleagues. 

I can't help but find myself wondering around the following questions. 

• How will our community develop?
• How will they fit into the community of their school?
• How will they fit into the community of our district?
• How will they grow as teachers and leaders?
• How will they grow as learners?
• How will they change our community and culture for the better?

In two weeks, our students will walk into their classrooms and into the communities they create. I have no doubt that these teachers will share my nervous excitement.  I hope that between the significant worries over rules and procedures and routines,   that they too will be wondering about community and learning. 

The first days of school are always an exciting time, full of hope and promise. Students are eager to learn, teachers are eager to teach. Everyone is excited for the new opportunities and challenges ahead of them. Optimism and joy seep out of classrooms into the hallways and beyond. The best teachers are the ones who make those feelings last through the holiday season and far past the  testing season.  

What if we treated every day like the first day of school? 

What if we were passionate about passion?

One of my favorite books of all time is Sir Ken Robinson's "The Element: How Finding Your Passion Changes Everything". It is my go-to book when I am in need of inspiration and a reminder of the conditions for learning we need to ensure we create. This book resonates with me as an educator but also personally because of our need as humans to be inspired, to drive towards greatness, to pursue our passions, and to hone our talents as life-long learners.

I fundamentally believe the major failure of public education is that we have consistently and continually told students what to learn and how to learn it without consideration for their own personal talents and passions. For most, the fundamental purpose of schooling is to create productive members of society. And while that is an important goal, it is considerably limiting. It is limiting because the transaction of school is continuously one-sided and the focus is on what we want instead of what is best for one another.  It is also limiting because if we afforded students the latitude to learn as they needed, about what they wanted, and focused on learning about the things they were most passionate about, we would be developing more productive members of society anyway.  This is the same argument about achievement and learning. When we allow achievement to be the measurable goal, we are ignoring the greater potential of learning.  When our students are master learners, we will see measurable growth through just about every metric.

As adults, despite being successful, we often are not afforded the time and space to follow our passions. Our careers, family, and life circumstances become our primary focuses.  And the resentment of not being able to do the things we love may manifest in statements to our kids and students such as "life isn't always about fun and games" or "You can't always do what you want" (Thank you Rolling Stones!)  But what if we changed our message? What if our schools were built around passion? 

What if we were passionate about passion? 

What if we stopped talking about change and embraced it?

So much of what happens in school and in classrooms revolves around the concept of change. There are those who are frustrated that change isn't happening fast enough. There are those who are upset that it seems to be happening too fast. But these conversations are often just that... conversations. They miss the point. 

I love to be in the ocean. There is a place, just off the shore, where the crashing waves are just loud enough to drown out most of the screams of excitement on the beach. It is the place where the undercurrent pulls us out a little further from the shore than we might be comfortable with. Sometimes it is at this point where the water is just deep enough for us be able to touch our toes, but we are most likely treading water. It is also at this point where we realize that the waves forming beyond us will force us to make a choice. That choice is to either ride that wave in towards the beach  or be completely enveloped by the impending wave. We can try and hold out, avoiding them, but they will continue to grow and they will continue to come. Change, like the wave, can't be controlled, but it can be navigated. It can also completely swallow us up. 

Change is  never easy. It is by its nature, a process of growth and evolution. It is inevitable and unavoidable. Frequently, we pretend that if we ignore change long enough, we can stop it.  But in doing so, we often miss how drastically different the landscape has shifted around us.   Many of our schools and classrooms are dangerously in peril of becoming not just ineffective at preparing the next generation for the world around them, but also becoming completely obsolete. We must decide whether we want to spend our time talking about how much pain change will cause us or whether we want to focus on how beautiful we can make our classrooms and schools for our students. 

What if we stopped talking about change and embraced it?

What if we designed our learning spaces for learning?

Recently I had the opportunity to spend some time in a showroom focused on school furniture. Along with traditional school furniture, there were many other alternatives that embraced the flexible learning spaces that our students deserve. The showroom had colors, fabrics, multi-use chairs and tables, and utilized wall space as whiteboards through the use of whiteboard paint.  It was hard to not feel inspired by the use of space and design. All I wanted to do was begin to draw on the walls and the many other spaces meant for people to leave their mark.

Ultimately, the conversation led to cost and budgets. They then led to whether we were preparing students for colleges which have not necessarily embraced these types of learning spaces. Conversations also revolved around the need to have spaces for students to take the multitude of state tests and their ridiculous requirements, and lastly, the reality of the structure and limitations of the size of the classrooms that currently exist.

At one point I found myself mumbling under my breath "Why can't we ever, just once, start from the potential of the learning space?"

It would be easy to take each of these factors and toss them out the window as complaints, but they aren't. They are the current reality of many schools and educators which are still structured for the 20th-century factory model of schools.   It can be challenging to envision learning spaces that are flexible, colorful, and design focused when we are stuck in schools that resemble factories both inside and out. And while it is a chicken and egg scenario, the limitations above can sometimes keep educators from taking risks.

Consistently public schools are "stuck" trying to serve higher education through outdated, highly structured, and content driven curriculum, focus on achievement on tests like the SAT and AP, and even instructional strategies such as the lecture. The domino effect implications of higher education expectations consistently shape and limit the learning potential in public schools across the United States. At the same time, public schools rarely have the courage to buck the system and build schools and design classrooms for the instruction, culture, and academics our students deserve.

The furniture discussion is just a microcosm of how preparing students for college and career readiness place ceilings on learning for our students.   It is also the place where we have been attracted to the bells and whistles which lead to wasteful spending instead of thoughtful design. Every classroom with an interactive projector, class sets of laptops and tablets must be a place where learning occurs, right?  It is easy to be distracted by the gigantic interactive tv's that will be obsolete in two years or the computer enabled tables that provide little to no collaborative learning experiences for our students.  We set our sights on things instead or processes, devices instead of learners.

In so many ways, whiteboard walls (or just large whiteboards in general), magnetic walls (better yet, magnetic whiteboards), or lots of corkboards can transform a classroom space with very little waste in expense. The focus should always be on the design process and the learning that occurs, not on the expensive technology or furniture. New furniture is nice and can change the culture and vibe of space, but until we remember that the most important person in the room IS the room, we may never see the kind of learning we hope to see.

While school board, administrator, and teacher perspectives are incredibly important, decisions on furniture, devices, and other resources often leave out the most important stakeholders. As we were driving back from the showroom, our tech director (@kuzojoe) asked the most important question of all: "What kinds of learning spaces do you think our students would want? What kinds of furniture would they like to have? "

What if we asked our learners how they wished to learned? What if we designed our learning spaces for learning?

What if we valued curiosity?

Along with many awesome things he shared today, George Couros (@gcouros) made the following statement in his #pete2016 keynote:

"If a child leaves our schools less curious than when they started, we have failed." - G. Couros

This might be the greatest condemnation of most schools or school systems.  How many of us can truly claim, let alone quantify, that a majority of our students graduate more curious than when they started as a child?

The dictionary definition is pretty fantastic in that it defines curiosity as a strong desire to know or learn something. I guarantee there are a plethora of  district mission statements out there that use the phrase "life-long learner" and yet do not consider how their  policies, choices, and actions completely drain the curiosity out of their children.   Grading practices, teacher focused instructional practices, and heavy-handed curriculum emphasizing coverage over learning are all examples of things completely in our locus of control  which  remove the love of learning from our students. 

Sadly, the second definition of curiosity is more of the norm in our classrooms and schools. Far too few of us are embracing student driven learning through passion/project/problem based learning.  We continue to complain about the disengaged and distracted learners amongst us while not acknowledging our own culpability in killing the love of learning.  When Will Richardson writes about the nostalgia for school, he is referring to our consistent faith and belief that our own schooling wasn't so bad.  To those who think it wasn't so bad, ask yourself this question: How many times did you get to choose what you wanted to learn, in the ways you could learn best, and show what you learned in the way that was determined by you, the learner? Did any of your schooling reflect the type of learning you do as an adult? Me neither.

Many of us chuckle when we see memes like this:

 Are we still laughing when it says this? 

I believe that our job as educators is to empower our students to be eternally curious. They can't be curious sitting behind a desk. And they certainly can't be curious when we are constantly telling them what to think, do, or say.  

Our classrooms and schools are a direct reflection of what we value.

What if we valued curiosity? 

What if we stopped complaining and started doing?

I had an opportunity to meet and speak with someone whom I have long admired today. George Couros writes and reflectively shares his thoughts on leadership and learning on his blog, through social media  (@gcouros) and in his book  "The Innovator's Mindset: Empower Learning, Unleash Talent, and Lead a Culture of Creativity". What I have often admired about George is that he writes and speaks practically, openly and honestly. He blogs often. He makes time to reflect and he makes time to lead through building relationships.

It's been awhile since I have attended an ed-tech conference for a multitude of reasons, but chief among them is what I have perceived as the increased "self-promotion" of individuals and the exploding capitalism of learning by ed tech companies. Around every corner, there is always a person or product willing to take your money and solve your problems for you. There is also no shortage of people who will showcase how amazing and transformative something is without actually being able to provide evidence of the impact on student learning.   This is also one of the reasons why I have shied away from the use of social media altogether in recent months.

Meeting George face to face actually gave me a sense of guilt and shame because he is one of those people who I believe actually walks the talk. My shame stems from the fact that I often don't make the time to write and reflect. My guilt stems from the fact that I don't participate and share the way I believe we all have an obligation to do. Sadly, I spent most of the early parts of our conversation complaining about lots of things instead of engaging in meaningful conversation.  As I became aware of my overt negativity, we chuckled and George even commented that I should change my twitter handle to @bitchychad. ( I looked it up and no one has used it yet. Maybe we can get it trending.) But in that moment, I also realized how much time and energy I have wasted complaining instead of doing.  Even in a moment such as this, instead of focusing on potential, instead of learning about how to be the change, instead of learning from someone with expertise, I was fixated on sharing my frustrations. I can't say it was one of my prouder moments.

This realization has implications on my perceptions of social media and conferences. When we only see the negative, when we only see the problems, we miss the beauty and the opportunities all around us. I often think of a white sheet of paper with a tiny black dot in the middle of it. How often do we focus on the black dot instead of the vast, white, clean paper ready to be transformed?   How often do we only see the negative in our classrooms, schools, or communities? How much time do we spend focusing on the problems instead of celebrating and working at the opportunities in front of us?

And if I am being truly open and honest, I think it's how many of us waste a lot of our time and energies. We consistently kick the can down the alley: blaming others, blaming our circumstances, and blaming the system.  There is no doubt that there are hurdles to overcome. There is no doubt that there are systems in place that make it challenging. But they aren't impossible circumstances to overcome and the hurdles aren't impossibly high to get over. We have to stop admiring the problems. For some of us, it would mean we might have to admit that we aren't good enough yet. For others, we would have to acknowledge that it is going to take a lot of work to get to where we want to be. And for others still, it would mean looking deeply at why we are avoiding moving forward.

Tomorrow, I am excited that George will keynote #petec2016 and spend some time sharing many of his thoughts, ideas, and perspectives on leading and learning in funny, engaging, and provocative ways. And I will listen, not focused on what can't or won't happen, but by recognizing that there is potential for every student, every teacher, every administrator, every board member, and every parent and community member to do amazing things for our schools and our community.  I hope to get him to sign his book for me, even if he does sign it  "for @bitchychad".

What would we gain if we stopped complaining and just started doing together? 

What if we remembered what it was like to be new?

One of the opportunities we have been afforded in our current roles as instructional coaches is to support new teachers to our district.Our current induction process involves a week long "New Teacher Academy" and then a series of face to face meetings throughout the year. We are also using a district wide LMS to build community between meetings through discussions and sharing.  The make-up of this years group is diverse in experience. We have teachers who are in their first year as a teacher and fresh out of college. We have teachers who are in their second career. We have teachers who are returning to the profession after spending time at home with their family. And we have teachers who have come from other districts in search of new opportunities.

The start of the year can be an extremely difficult and challenging time for a veteran teacher, let alone someone who is trying to establish their role in the culture of a school or district as a newbie. Learning new curriculum, new technology, and building new relationships is challenging. Fitting into an established culture, following through on expectations, and navigating the politics of a school or district is completely overwhelming.  Even under the best circumstances it can lead to many more questions and self doubt than answers and confidence. Many new teachers find support with one another and with grade level or course alike partners and collaborators. Sometimes they are supported by district provided mentors or coaches, and if they are fortunate enough: a building principal willing to invest in them.

A recent meeting with our current crop of new teachers forced some much needed reflection and contemplation. While there were stories of small victories (I finally got logged into this system!) , celebrations of established routines (My kids actually lined up properly after two weeks of practice!!), there were also stories that brought tears and sadness. Sometimes these stories are things we can do little to control. How do we support a teacher when a parent chooses to use Back to School night and social media to openly criticize them despite trying their best.  What can we do differently when students openly mention that they can't wait for the 'regular' teacher to come back?

But what about the things we have control over? Is moaning and groaning about a colleague who pushes into our classroom with a cart to teach, a proper way to treat them just because we can’t use our space for our prep work?  Is it acceptable for us to tell a new teacher in our building that we don't have time to show them where the photocopier is or help them navigate curricular resources? Is it right for us to ignore a new teacher in the faculty room or not say hello in the hallway?  Is it kind or compassionate to openly criticize how a new teacher is running their classroom or teaching?  

We often worry about about our students and the way they treat others. My earliest recollections of school involve learning the golden rule. The truth is that we make our jobs infinitely more difficult because instead of supporting one another it’s much easier to tear each other down. Is it time for us to look in the mirror and acknowledge that sometimes we don't practice what we preach? That sometimes we forget what it is like to be new.

What if we stopped to ask a new teacher in our building to sit with us at lunch? What if we stopped into the classroom of a new teacher and asked how things were going? What if we stopped them in the hallway and asked them if they needed help with anything?  What if we sent a new teacher a note or an email telling them how happy we were to have them in our building? What if we took three seconds out of our day to tell a new teacher that we were excited to learn alongside them? What if we took time each day to remember that  teaching is much more enjoyable when we support one another? What if we committed to 30 minutes a week sharing and collaborating? What if we remembered what it was like to be new?

At the end of our last meeting we asked each member of the group to write down something that they were proud of on a post it note. We asked them to fold it up and put it in their wallet or purse.  And we asked that the next time they felt beaten down, found themselves crying or wanting to quit, that they should get out that note to remind them that there are many things to be proud of. While what I write next wouldn’t fit on a post it note, I do want to share what I am proud of.

So to our new teachers (and new teachers everywhere):

I am proud of you. You wake up every day and come to school with the best of intentions: to help students learn and to grow. You put up with the nonsense and the noise. You put your best foot forward. You work through the tears, the criticism,  the long nights, the loneliness, and the feeling that what you do will never be good enough. You recognize that this profession is not what you expected it to be. You question whether you will make it to December, let alone to the end of the year. You wonder when it will be fun. And yet each day you treat it like it is new again. I am proud of you because you understand grit, perseverance, and problem solving because you know no other way.  I am proud of you because you choose to continue to learn and grow and approach each task as a new opportunity to improve.

It’s ok to recognize the negative, the hurt, and the frustration: but remember this moment. Remember that this is the moment you acknowledged that despite it all, it is completely worth it.  Remember what it feels like to be new. Remember that our students walk into "new" at the start of each year. Remember that next year, there will be colleagues who will be experiencing what it means to be new. Remember that you pulled yourself up by the bootstraps. Remember that it got better (not necessarily easier). Remember that you found the support you needed. Remember that you learned what you needed to because you never stopped trying. Remember that you won over parents and students because of the kindness and compassion you showed them. Remember that you will never be the same teacher you are at this moment.  Remember that despite the heartache and challenge ahead of you each day, what you do is valued by many even though they may not say it or show it nearly enough.  Remember that to each student who walks through your door, you can be their support and their hero. What you do each day makes you my hero. Remember that we are proud of you.

What if... we are wrong about college and career readiness?

Many schools and school districts utilize metrics such as high school graduation rates and standardized test scores to determine their effectiveness. Focusing on state-wide assessments (here in PA it would be the PSSA and Keystone Graduation tests in Biology, Algebra 1, and Literature) as well as national assessments such as the ACT, SAT, and AP tests, provide insights into the strength and quality of an academic program. Some school districts will also explore the amount of students who go on to 4 year colleges, who remain in college after a year, and who actually graduate from a 4 year program.  All of these elements play a role in determining a student's college and career readiness as well as district success in developing students for the worlds of college and work. It is challenging to argue that preparing students for college and careers beyond traditional K-12 schooling is not the mission of school itself. Yet there are fundamental philosophical differences between those who believe the mission of school is to produce compliant, hard working, efficient members of the American workforce and those who believe the mission of school is to develop passionate learners. What if we are wrong about the data? What if we are wrong about career and college readiness?

Many have written about the need to shift away from the traditional factory models put in place in which students became the cogs of the American labor force. And yet many school systems continue to double down on the traditional pathways to success because they are unwilling to envision or implement (or both) non-traditional measures of success. Should school culture be considered when determining the success of a school or district? It's an oversimplification, but a recent conversation about school climate during the 2015 EduSummit drove home three simple questions "Is your school a place students want to come to? Is your school a place parents want to send their children? Is your school a place your employees/teachers want to work in?".  Where do these questions factor into the success of a school or district? And while we wouldn't want to solely determine the academic quality of our schools through these questions, who is willing to ask them, let alone care about them?  Do stakeholders really come to school, send their children to school, or work in a school based on a Career and College Readiness Index?

This is not to say that helping students to become successful students isn't one of the most important aspects of becoming effective learners, but I am saying that we consistently limit our expectations for students and what is in store for them because we only utilize measures that are both easy to measure and to predict. The most fascinating trend in education today is how often administrations rail against state mandated testing and the disruption is creates, yet they then administer equally  disruptive "diagnostic" tests to predict student success on those same assessments.  Let that sink in: we are now administering more standardized tests to help us predict and support student success on standardized tests we complain about them having to take in the first place.

We develop data teams and data plans around these same measures as well. We can't continue to blame lawmakers (and rightfully so) while hypocritically utilizing other tests that measure how well they might do on the tests we loathe. While we are at it, let's stop pretending that teachers should effectively and efficiently utilize these types of tests to design instruction and interventions. Meta-analysis by John Hattie and years of research by Dylan Wiliam et al overwhelmingly show us that formative assessment yields tremendous impact on student learning and growth, yet we keep distracting teachers by the big data of these tests.   Success on those metrics may make us feel better about ourselves systemically but they do not actually translate into an ounce of meaningful student learning.  Just google "does the SAT predict college success?" and you will find that there is not a strong correlation between the two. Recent trends are moving away from standardized tests as requirements for college admission as well.

“What makes the SAT bad is that it has nothing to do with what kids learn in high school. As a result, it creates a sort of shadow curriculum that furthers the goals of neither educators nor students.… The SAT has been sold as snake oil; it measured intelligence, verified high school GPA, and predicted college grades. In fact, it’s never done the first two at all, nor a particularly good job at the third.” Yet students who don’t test well or who aren’t particularly strong at the kind of reasoning the SAT assesses can find themselves making compromises on their collegiate futures—all because we’ve come to accept that intelligence comes with a number. This notion is pervasive, and it extends well beyond academia. Remember the bell‐shaped curve we discussed earlier? It presents itself every time I ask people how intelligent they think they are because we’ve come to define intelligence far too narrowly. We think we know the answer to the question, “How intelligent are you?” The real answer, though, is that the question itself is the wrong one to ask.” ― Ken Robinson, The Element - How finding your passion changes everything

Certainly the mission to make students "career" ready can't be bad, right? Inherently, no. However, it is arrogant for us in education to believe we know what the world outside of school actually wants or needs when so little of what we do is actually like the "real world".

Schools and classrooms too often reflect that traditional vision of career readiness.  Are we as a profession prepared or capable of supporting our students for the world that lies outside our classroom?  Look at this research from a poll conducted in 2007 from the Association of American Colleges and Universities (which by today's standards is ancient history) of the top ten things employers want from college graduates:

1. The ability to work well in teams—especially with people different from yourself
2. An understanding of science and technology and how these subjects are used in real-world settings
3. The ability to write and speak well
4. The ability to think clearly about complex problems
5. The ability to analyze a problem to develop workable solutions
6. An understanding of global context in which work is now done
7. The ability to be creative and innovative in solving problems
8. The ability to apply knowledge and skills in new settings
9. The ability to understand numbers and statistics
10. A strong sense of ethics and integrity

Source: "How Should Colleges Prepare Students to Succeed in Today's Global Economy?" (Results of a national poll by Peter D. Hart Research Associates, 2007).

Do our classrooms teach and  measure these? Do our schools support teachers who want to help students to be successful in these skills?  Does the SAT, ACT, random state test, AP test, or any other standardized test measure more than one or two of these things?  Do they even measure them well? Explain to me again why we continue to think that college and career readiness is the goal if we are unwilling to accept that our vision of what that actually means,  as well as our measures of success are outdated and insufficient. If we truly believed the list above we would see classrooms that embraced Project/Problem/Passion Based Learning . We would embrace inter-disciplinary work. We would utilize the power of heterogenously grouped learning environments instead of creating caste systems of haves and have nots. We would personalize learning by supporting students in their own systems of inquiry.

No one will disagree that college will open many doors for students and that success on the SAT can provide students more options by helping them get into college, but should that really be THE goal for our students? No one will argue that one of the missions for schooling is to help them to be "career ready", but which careers?  We know that there is varying unscientific research on the amount of careers employees will have in a lifetime of work. We also  know that what they will need to know is less important than how they will need to learn and apply that learning.  There is also much debate about the oft repeated yet rarely substantiated "we are preparing students for jobs that have not been created yet".   Ultimately, we must acknowledge that technology is rapidly changing the demands of the work force (even if not the traditional labels of jobs) vastly. We also have to realize that app developer wasn't a thing 5 years ago.

College and career readiness should be something we care about, but it's a limiting mission quantified by even more limiting tests. What if the mission of school was to develop passionate, creative, and articulate learners? What if the vision was a workforce of people performing jobs and tasks based upon things they loved doing or felt called to do?

“Education is the system that’s supposed to develop our natural abilities and enable us to make our way in the world. Instead, it is stifling the individual talents and abilities of too many students and killing their motivation to learn. There’s a huge irony in the middle of all of this.” ― Ken Robinson, The Element: How Finding Your Passion Changes Everything

What if we believed the purpose of education and schooling was to develop the abilities of all students to make their own path in the world? Would they then be college and career ready too?

What if?

For about three years now, I have had this magnet in front of me near my desk.

Many times I have stared at that magnet when I have been frustrated with things large and small. I often reflect that if we could all just take a pause, breathe, and recollect our thoughts, things weren't as hard as they seemed. Quite often I have heard the phrase "Teaching is hard" and there is no doubt that the teaching profession is incredibly difficult, complex, and challenging. Yet those words connote so much more than "Teaching is hard". While it's semantic, I believe it's important to represent that what we do as educators is complicated and rarely "easy" or "hard".

At the heart of the quote are two key elements: the question "What if" and the spirit of the quote, which is ultimately about mindset and attitude. Too many of us allow the walnut trees to dictate how we approach the constant array of complications and changes. The joke in every school building is often "wait a few years and it will go away". Sometimes, things go away in one year. But WHAT IF, we took each change, each implementation plan, each curricular change, each initiative and acted like it was easy. What if we looked for the useful,  the redeemable, and added it to our repertoire?

What if instead of fighting change we embraced it by looking for the good? What if we acted like it was easy?

The question "What if?" continues to resonate with me and I have decided that this school year, my reflections will be focused on that very question. At the heart of all learning are deep meaningful questions. What if... can be a powerful one.


As I began to wrap up this first blog post of 2015-2016, I became aware of the incredible story of two young girls from Washington state who designed and sent their own spacecraft into space. Take the 7 minutes to watch their story.

I am confident that their story began with a "What if?" I am confident that some educators would have told the young sisters that what they wanted to do was too "hard" for them.  Luckily for the world, these sisters acted like it was easy (I'm pretty sure it wasn't).

"These two sisters set out to make something fun and exciting, and they certainly accomplished that. What they might not know is that they also created something beautiful that can’t quite be quantified by data. They created magic."

http://nerdist.com/two-sisters-send-r2d2-and-a-cat-to-the-edge-of-space/

What if we supported our students passions?
What if we stopped creating ceilings for our students?
What if we encouraged our students dreams?

Today you turn one year old.

Dear Justin,

Today you turn one year old. You weren't supposed to be one today. You must have been so ready for this world that you came out 10 weeks earlier than we expected. When you were born, we were scared and worried but also full of love. The doctors and nurses who were there with you and with us were also full of care and love and support too.  When you were born, they let mommy kiss you on your forehead and then they whisked you away for many hours. It was scary not to see you or be able to hold you, but we knew you were being taken good care of.  When we finally got to come down and see you, you were in a special bed,  full of special stuff to help you breathe and to check your heart. There were all kinds of beeping noises and screens showing us that you were doing ok.   Even though you were sleeping, I wanted to touch you. I wanted you to know that we would always be there for you.  So, I washed my hands with the special soap, opened the doors of your special bed, moved a few of the wires hooked up to you and reached in to touch your tiny little hand. I couldn't see your face because of the special equipment, but I think you must have been happy because as soon as you felt my touch,  you opened up your hand and squeezed my finger. It was at that moment, I knew a special kind of love I had never known before.

Today you turn one year old. You weren't supposed to be one today. You must have been so excited and ready to explore this world that you came out 10 weeks earlier than expected.  But the world wasn't quite safe enough for you yet. You got to stay in that special bed for a few more weeks. And each day, mommy and daddy would come down to visit you for as long as we could. Mommy would read you stories and sing to you and she would hold you close. Each day you would learn something new: how to breathe on your own, how to swallow, how to breathe and swallow together. Each day, you would smile and cry and eat and sleep. The nurses and doctors took amazing care of you and helped mommy and daddy to know what to expect. Many of your family members came to visit you. You were still so tiny. There were other babies around too. Just like you. They couldn't wait to come into this world either, so they came early. Some were there a lot longer than you and some came and went in a few days. But they all had doctors and nurses who loved them all the same.

Today you turn one year old. You weren't supposed to be one today. You must have been so excited to be a part of this world that you came out 10 weeks earlier than we expected.  Finally after 40 days,  you didn't need the special bed or the special stuff and we were allowed to bring you to our house. We took the hour drive home from the hospital very slowly. Daddy never drove more carefully than he did that day. Mikey was at the door ready to greet you, tail wagging, and was excited we were all home together. We got to show you your nursery and all of the gifts our family and friends had given you.  Over the next few weeks and months, you did a lot of sleeping.  We had many doctors visits and at each one, they told us that you were growing very  slowly.  They told us that someday you would catch up, but for now, you are just small. They told us that we had to do everything we could to help you grow. (Later in life, when you want to know why you have the desire to eat every hour, you can blame us...or the doctors.)

Today you turn one year old. You weren't supposed to be one today. You must have been ready to play in this world because ever since you knew how to roll around on the floor, you haven't stopped playing. You go from toy to toy, a non-stop whirlwind of movement. You are sitting up and standing on your own. You are crawling faster than we can keep up.  You are walking with help. You are saying a few words: mama, dada, baba, yeah.  You love to listen to music and to take baths. You love to dance. You love Mickey Mouse. You love all of your toys. You love your books. And you love to smile.

Today you turn one year old. You weren't supposed to be one today. You must have been ready to learn in this world because you have never stopped learning new things.  As you continue to grow, we will read lots of books together and listen to all kinds of music. We will visit museums and historic sites. We will travel to new places and we will meet lots of people. We will see the world with wonder and amazement. We will see people as interesting and of value, both to us and to this world.  We will always want to leave a place better than we found it. This is something I hope we will always have in common.  I hope we can provide you with a love of learning and a love for life itself.

Today you turn one year old. You weren't supposed to be one today. But I am glad that you are.  I am thankful to be able to share you with the world.  You were meant to be here, right now. You have been everything I expected you to be and more. You have been the light in the darkness and brought joy where there was once heartache.  You fill me with pride that is bursting at the seams.  I know that you are only one today but there are so many amazing things to come. I know that we are so busy trying to help you grow but we selfishly want you to stay this way forever. Secretly, we want you to always need us in your life, despite knowing that our hope for you is to become a strong and loving individual. Even though we celebrate this milestone,  this one moment, we are also celebrating all that you have overcome and all that you will become.

Today you turn one year old. Tonight I will hold you in my arms as you drift off to sleep. You will gradually close your eyes, your breathing will settle into a rhythm, and you will let go of the tight grip you have of my chest. I will say the same prayer I say for you every night as I lay you down in your crib and you will dream whatever it is that babies dream about.  Tomorrow there won't be cake or presents or nearly as much excitement. By definition, tomorrow will be just another day.  Except it's not. Tomorrow you are one year and one day old. Tomorrow will be full of hope and dreams and play and learning too.  Tomorrow will not be your birthday, but it will be an opportunity to love and appreciate all that we are and all that we have. Tomorrow will be another day to enjoy life. Tomorrow we will continue to be thankful for the rich blessings of family and friends, doctors and nurses, and for the joyful life ahead of us together.

But today, today you turn one year old.

A growing sadness

      My son Justin is 10 months old. He has entered into a phase where he would much rather be playing than be held. He is active and happy and wants to explore the world around him as much as possible. He is crawling, inch worming, and rolling depending on how motivated he is to get someplace fast (like chasing after the dog). He is extremely responsive to music and loves Mickey Mouse. Justin loves to play with a variety of toys and when we lay him down on the floor, he just goes off in various directions. On any given day, he moves from his toy farm animals to his multicolored rings, from the multitude of learning devices with lights and sounds and songs to his stuffed animals. He plays longer now, sometimes rolling around for over an hour. He expresses excitement with squeals and squeaks and the occasional “mama”. When he gets bored with one toy, he moves on to the next. He is constantly trying new things. He figured out how to get the little people out of the barn and put them back in. I don’t know why this amazes me, but it does. 

Watching him learn and grow brings us so much joy and with each passing day, I am reminded of how “simple” learning can be.

• It is questioning. (Why can’t I fit this big orange ring into my mouth?) 
• It is trial and error. (Maybe I can fit this big orange ring into my mouth if I turn it this way.) 
• It is choice. (Maybe I will play with the little red ring instead of this bigger orange one for now.) 
• It is perseverance and grit. (If I keep trying to fit this orange ring in my mouth for the next 20 minutes, it will eventually fit in there.) 
• It is fun. (I am going to scream and laugh and giggle at this big orange ring as I play with it.) 

       While I enjoy this time with Justin, trying to appreciate every moment of learning , there is a growing sadness developing in my heart. It is the realization that while I am busy trying to appreciate every moment of learning and growth, he probably should be doing the same. The sadness is growing inside me because I know that learning in school will most likely never be more personal and more authentic than it is right now. In 5 years he is going to walk into a kindergarten classroom that is going to be driven more by ensuring that all students can read on grade level than by focusing on play. In 8 years, he is going to walk into a classroom that is more driven by being “college and career ready” (in third grade!) than by helping him see joy in learning. In 11 years, he is going to walk into middle school classrooms built around archaic curriculum instead of lively students. In 14 years, he will walk into high school classrooms that are entirely focused on content and the person in the front of the room, instead of the students (and the multitude of questions they have) in it.

      My growing sadness is built around the fact that our modern schools are places built around content and teaching instead of students and learning. I want him to perceive history as something to actively research and explore through his own questions. I want him to learn to think like a historian or an archaeologist. I want him to learn that mathematics is as much a language as it is a process and that the journey of arriving at a correct answer is as important as the final solution. I want him to learn to think like a mathematician or statistician. I want him to learn science through inquiry, through experimentation, by doing science, by developing his own questions and exploring them more deeply. I want him to learn to think like a chemist or an engineer. I want him to love reading and to express himself in a variety of ways. I want him to love music, art, theater, and sports. I want him to be creative and collaborative. I want him to seamlessly utilize technology to research, create, and connect with other students and experts and to amplify his learning. Most importantly, I want him to recognize that each moment is an opportunity to learn and grow.

Permit my cynicism, but schools like this don’t exist in many places (although there are places like this and in the video below.)

    

 If we were truly honest about our nostalgia for school, (also see “Why School”) we would admit that our beliefs about our modern schools and classrooms are entrenched in a reality that was never as good as we think it was. Think deeply about your schooling experiences. How often were you given choices? How often were you afforded the opportunity to control your own learning? How often were you afforded the right to explore what you wanted, in ways that you wanted, and show what you learned in ways you designed?  If you arrived at the “Look, I made it through school and I’m a successful adult.” or “School was awful for me, but it’s just a rite of passage my kids will have to deal with.” you might be part of the problem.

As an educator, it is incredibly easy to point fingers at: 

• elected officials: for creating the test-focused climate.
• media,elected officials, and administrators: who use the testing results in ways they were never intended to be used.
• curriculum writers and coordinators: who purchase or create curriculum that we as teachers had no say in developing or vetting. 
• building principals: who place too many kids in a class or place too many of “those kids” in our classes. 
• parents: who did not prepare their student for school or do not engage with their students about their learning. 
• students: for not taking the opportunity to learn nearly seriously enough.
• other educators: who simply are not cutting it or "did not do a good job teaching the year before."

What’s not so easy, is recognizing that we as educators must: 

• admit that the system of schooling we all achieved in, is not the best model for our current students. 
• admit that content is not king and that what will make students "college and career ready" is far more than collecting facts.
• have the courage to make students and learning the focus of our classrooms and schools. 
• have the courage to admit that our one-size-fits all mentality and teaching style are a significant part of the problem. 
• admit that when only 80% of the students “get it”, that is not nearly good enough. 
• admit that “those kids” are the ones who were given to us, so we could help make a difference in their lives. 
• commit to making the kinds of changes that translate into student ownership of learning, not accountability through grades and task completion. 
• acknowledge that our job is incredibly difficult, but less so when we collaborate and support one another around the right kinds of things. 

     As a parent, I promise that Justin will walk into a Kindergarten classroom with eyes wide open, full of wonder. He will be willing to play and experiment. He will be full of energy. We will work hard to make sure he knows his shapes, and numbers, and can read to the best of his ability. We will spend time helping him to learn to share and play well with others. We will do our best to help him to love and show compassion and kindness. We will spend the next 5 years preparing him to be a learner first, a student second. We hope that he will be met by a teacher with the same learning first mindset we are trying to instill.

     Right now there are many students in each class, just like Justin, staring at us, waiting for us to make the next move. Each student is not the same. They are each unique and deserving not only of our very best, but the opportunity to be the architects of their own learning. We need to stop playing the game of school. These are students who deserve to be learners first and students second. These are students whose future “nostalgia” for school could be based on the reality that school was a place where they did purposeful work for authentic reasons. A place where they created instead of consumed. A place where it mattered less what they knew, and more what they did with that knowledge. A place that honored creativity and perseverance more than grades. A place that personalized learning while also affording opportunities for true collaborative problem solving. A place that put their own individual learning needs ahead of everything else. 

(Sir Ken Robinson nails it in this Ted Talk from April 2013)