Cupid Shuffle, Robots, Teamwork

To the right, to the right, to the right, to the right, 
to the left, to the left, to the left, to the left, 
now kick, now kick, now kick, now kick, 
now walk it by yourself . . ..”  

The music started jammin’; the dancers in their pastel tutus started groovin’; kids started clappin'.  No, this was not last month’s middle school dance, rather it was seventh-grade science class on Friday at 9:50 AM, rooms five and six.  The dancers involved, while directed by the seventh graders, were actually Lego Mindstorm robots.  The routines, expertly choreographed and programmed, were the culmination of a week’s worth or teamwork.  While programming is a valued skill that involves logical sequencing, problem solving, and some discreet knowledge about the language involved, the real value of last week’s “dance off” was in the work and lessons learned about collaboration and communication.  

About a week ago, I was touring the mother of a fifth-grade boy who was interested in how the middle school had changed in the short time that had passed since her daughter, a current ninth grader, first entered Stephens Hall.  We spent some time in my office talking about educational theory and then moved down the hall to see what was happening.  I love to give tours because it is a chance for me to show off what we do and who we are, something that is sometimes difficult to describe with words or numbers.  We entered Mr. McManus’s room at the end of the hall and found Meghan and Anna Kate standing in front of their seventh-grade classmates.  While the following is paraphrased, it is pretty close to what we heard:

Okay, everyone be quiet.  We've got to get rid of the chaos, so we decided to give everybody jobs.  If you don’t like your job, it doesn’t matter ‘cause you can switch.  We think Sydney should be leader.

As this was going on, Mr. McManus was sitting off to the side pretending to be disinterested.  The mom and I looked at each other, and I got a big smile on my face.  

Now I wasn’t in the classroom the previous day, but from what the girls told me, it was pretty ugly: people talking, no one listening, raised voices, frustration, nothing getting done -- sounds a little like Congress.  Mr. McManus, being a wise, experienced sage, let the situation play out. He trusted the process and didn’t jump in to fix things. This empowered the girls to take matters into their own hands and work it out.  Some girls became programmers, some costume designers, some DJ’s, some choreographers, and one a leader.  Some girls changed jobs as it became apparent that more work was needed in different areas.  They worked together.  They solved their own problems.

I spent a few minutes talking to Anna Kate and Meghan who had stood in front of their peers to attempt to make order out of chaos, and asked them what I thought was going to be a tough question:  “Why didn’t appoint yourselves leaders?”  They didn’t miss a beat and said that they chose Sydney because she is really good at being a leader.  They said that she listens well and can organize things.  Nice!  

The three other seventh-grade core groups also struggled through the process of how to get a large group to work together to reach a goal. Some were not particularly pleased with the outcome; however, if each groups' performance didn't come off perfectly, they all persevered and brought something worthwhile to the dance floor. So, as Cupid says, ". . . do your dance, do your dance."

Understanding Boy World

Between raking a couple of million leaves, spatchcocking and roasting a turkey, and running until my plantar fasciitis has left me hobbling, I have been plowing through Rosalind Wiseman’s newest book, Masterminds and Wingmen, which focuses on helping adults to understand teenage boys.  Through her research and interviews with hundreds of boys, Wiseman gives us (you should read this book) a portrait of boys and a glimpse into their psyche, motivation, and daily struggles.  Although I’m only half way done with the book, I’m beginning to question how any of us guys have managed to reach adulthood.

I’ll give Wiseman credit; she wrote this book from a place of love for boys not because she wants to change or slam them.  As a man, it is pretty tough reading the book and thinking about all the stupid and dangerous things that I did as a boy, and, from reading the anecdotes of boys growing up now, that most boys do today.  Wiseman uncovers the reasons why boys sneak out at night, why they turn silent or lie when questioned, and why their anger can dominate them.  However, she doesn’t stop there.  She gives parenting advice on all these topics and more -- even the really tough ones involving social media, video games, sex, and porn.

Masterminds and Wingmen should really be used as a resource, not just for information.  When you question what you are doing in reaction to something your son has done, it would be great to go back and read a specific chapter in the book to get some perspective.  You may not follow Wiseman’s advice to the letter, but at least you will have considered an alternative, which is bound to help you make a better decision.  

Building Relationships

Seventeen years ago, I was sitting in a sterile, public school administrator’s office being interviewed for a teaching position.  When asked about my best qualities as a teacher, the first thing out of my mouth was my ability to form positive relationships with my students.  I explained how I listened to students’ problems, took them to perform community service work on my own time, and went to important events in their lives outside of school.  I professed that because I worked to develop relationships with my students, they would behave better in class, work harder, and gain self-confidence.  Almost immediately I realized that the principal interviewing me didn’t hold the same beliefs.  She quickly directed the conversation back to curriculum and testing, and I left the office knowing that I didn’t get the job -- and feeling somewhat grateful that I wouldn’t be working for this person.

I am fortunate to find myself working in a school that puts a premium on relationships, and we have structured our middle school to reflect this belief.  We offer students and faculty opportunities to connect with each other throughout the daily schedule and the calendar year.

• Group work -- I can honestly say that not a day that goes by that a student does not have the opportunity to work with another student or group of students.  Learning to work together is our culture.

• Advisory -- our advisories are single gender and multigrade.  Advisories are small, six to eight students, and led by a faculty member of the same gender.  We meet first thing each morning for fifteen minutes and have casual chats, foster important discussions, or play games.  
• Breaks -- our students have two breaks during the day, one during the morning and one after lunch.  Students can choose to play or talk together.  Students are discouraged from doing academic work at this time.
• Advisory intramurals -- each day during morning break, two advisories compete against each other in fun games like handball, beach volleyball, and pinball.  It has become so popular that half of the school comes down to watch the games and cheer.
• Exploratory -- twice in our six-day cycle, our students attend a class called "Exploratory." Faculty members choose a pursuit that they enjoy such as photography, board games, knitting, Pinterest, Lego robotics, theater games, and coding; and students sign up for the class.  Exploratory classes change three times each year.  Students (and faculty) of different grades and genders spend time together in pursuit of mutual interest.
• Dances and activities -- we hold three dances per year for our middle-school students.  Nearly every student attends and they are highly anticipated.  There are also three after-school social activities per school year like bowling or roller skating.
• Buddies -- all of our middle-school students are buddies with lower-school students.  Buddies get together six to ten times per year to participate in fun activities centered on the younger of the buddy pair.
• Extracurricular activities -- In middle school all of our students are encouraged to participate in athletics or our musical theater production.  Nearly all of our students take advantage of these opportunities to play, compete, and perform together outside of the regular school day.
• Overnights -- All of our students participate in two separate overnight trips during the school year where an emphasis is placed on developing teamwork among the students and faculty in the grade.

As a faculty, we also talk about ways to continually develop relationships with students.  None of these require teachers to be charismatic "pied pipers;" they are simply good practice in establishing and growing relationships:

• ask questions and listen
• be genuine
• go to extracurricular activities and talk to students about them
• smile
• be patient and persistent in your attempts to connect
• be observant of students’ changes in mood and ask them about it
• share your own passions
• tell interesting stories from your past

Being a part of something, belonging to a community, is especially important during the middle-school years when adolescents and preteens start pushing away from family and trying to decide who they want to be.  It is sometimes a confusing time in a child’s life and a time of struggle with self-confidence.  We know that connecting with others helps middle-school students to find their own way and be happier, which is why we put so much effort into building our relationships with each other.

Postive Psychology - A Summer Project

A few weeks ago, Missy Sullivan gave me an article to read about Positive Psychology written by Martin Seligman.  Missy has her headlights set on the completion of an advanced degree in School Psych, and during the summers we sometimes discuss ideas that apply to psychology and school.  I admit that I knew little to nothing about Positive Psychology, and although I found the article interesting, I was also a little skeptical.  In the meantime, I came across a large section in the book, How Children Succeed by Paul Tough, that described the theory and outcomes of Positive Psychology.  It seemed too much of a coincidence for me to be exposed to this theory twice in such a short period of time, so I’m following the serendipitous guidepost and delving into the theory, process, and outcomes.

The following is an excerpt from Martin Seligman’s Flourish: A Visionary New Understanding of Happiness and Well-Being

First, a quiz:

Question one: in one or two words, what do you most want for your children?

If you are like the thousands of parents I’ve polled you responded, “Happiness,” “Confidence,” “Contentment,” “Fulfillment,” “Balance,” “Good stuff,” “Kindness,” “Health,” “Satisfaction,” “Love,” “Being civilized,” “Meaning,” and the like. In short, well-being is your topmost priority for your children.

Question two: in one or two words, what do schools teach?

If you are like other parents, you responded, “Achievement,” “Thinking skills,” “Success,” “Conformity,” “Literacy,” “Math,” “Work,” “Test taking,” “Discipline,” and the like. In short, what schools teach is how to succeed in the workplace.

Can and should schools attempt to teach well-being?  The list of adjectives that Seligman describes as what parents “most want for their children” seems pretty squishy.  Is it really our job in school to teach kids to “love each other” or to “find meaning?”  Truthfully, great teachers have always taught these skills and attitudes.  It is one of the things that promotes such strong bonds between teachers and students.  However, what if schools adopted systematic and coordinated approaches to teaching well-being?  This has been done and, according to Seligman, done with success.  

I’ve got some research to do this summer.

Shadow Testing

I spend way too much time thinking about standardized testing.  Part of the reason why is because the state administered End of Grade tests became a large part of my life when I worked at a local public middle school.  During my last few years working in this school, I witnessed curricular decisions, faculty management decisions, programming decisions, professional development decisions, resource decisions, and scheduling decisions that were made only to optimize performance on the End of Grade tests -- principally the math and language arts tests which were the only EOGs given at that time.  To some degree, students ceased to be students and became percentages within categories.  I do not fault the dedicated teachers or administrators who made these decisions; they were simply playing by the rules that had been placed upon them.  However, I chose not to play by those rules any more.

I really want to see value in standardized achievement tests.  I want to look at them as the great equalizer -- objective, egalitarian instruments that don’t care if you are one percenter or on welfare.  I want them to be the provider of opportunity and the leveler of the playing field.  The problem is that in their effort to be objective, the tests must ignore the most valuable parts of being human.  They must measure things that are measurable, when, in fact, this treats our children as one-dimensional shadows and ignores their humanity.

For years I have read articles and had people tell me what standardized tests measure.  I’m not sure whether to believe them or not, but I do know what they don’t measure.  They don’t measure the most important qualities and skills that we should value in our young people. They don’t measure someone’s ability to create -- to make something of value that hasn’t been thought of or done before.  They don’t measure a persons ability to solve a novel problem by working with others.  They don’t measure the ability to form and maintain relationships.   They don’t measure a person’s ability to reflect on and evaluate their own place in the world.  They don’t measure a person’s honesty and integrity.  They don’t measure physical abilities.  They don’t measure how a child interacts with the natural world.  They don’t measure if someone can express emotion and feeling through the visual and performing arts.  They don’t measure a child’s happiness.  Truthfully, they only measure a very small part of a person, yet we have built our country’s education system as a response to these tests.  How can we look at a child in such narrow terms and think we are doing the best for her?

Who Will Win?

You may not be a Risk player, but my two sons and I love playing the game.  We’ve had this game up on the dining room table for two weeks now, playing a few moves whenever all three of us have enough time to sit down together.  The boy’s mother, my wife, was in the game for a while, but she lost all her armies last week following a failed offensive thrust.  Truthfully, she really wanted to lose so she could go back to watching Pride and Prejudice for the 35th time.  It’s probably good to have at least one member of our household who is not vying for world domination.

When I walked past the board this morning, it struck me that if I asked my son’s playmates who is going to win the game that most would quickly jump to the same conclusion.  The problem is that they don’t have enough information to make a reasonable guess.  Would it change their opinion if they knew that the next player would receive a bonus of 35 armies as he turns in his cards?  Would it change their opinion if they knew that a couple of days ago my sons made a pact to team up to bring down Papa for the first time?   Would it change their opinion to know that we had modified the rules to suit our family game?  Would it change their opinion if they knew that my goal in playing the game was to have fun, not win in the traditional sense?

As an educator, I could want nothing more for my students than for them to look at this board and know that they need more information -- then form and ask the right questions.  What if school was a place where students could practice solving problems rather than a place where someone told them all the answers?  Would there be less risk for its future if our next generation had the inclination to try to understand a situation before coming to a conclusion?  

What is Lifeworthy?

Several months ago, when I was exploring graduate programs, I came across the following short interview of David Perkins who recently retired from the teaching faculty at Harvard’s Graduate School of Education after forty years.  He still works with Harvard on research.  It intrigued and shocked me to hear a powerful policy voice say that “90% of what we typically teach in school is a waste of time.”  The short clip gives a general overview of Perkin’s ideas about what should be learned, but it left me wanting a more elaborate and specific explanation.   A short time after watching this interview, I saw that David Perkins would be one of the plenary speakers at the Future of Learning Institute at Harvard.  Last week, I got to hear David Perkins explain his ideas over what should be learned in an hour and a half talk. 

I find the following summary of some of Perkins’s ideas a poor substitute for listening to his plenary session at the FOL Institute.  Harvard did make a recording of the talk, and I hope they will release it to the general public at some time.  

Perkins started with the idea that we are educating today’s youth for an unknown world.  Previous generations could count on their children’s world looking fairly similar to their own.  However, with the rapid changes in technology and globalization, we can no longer say this is true.  Students need to concentrate on learning “lifeworthy” content and skills -- tools and knowledge that will be useful in an unknown world.

Lifeworthy skills and content, according to Perkins, lead learners to insight, action, and ethics.  He also believes that schools should focus on “comeupance,” that is things that come up regularly in a person’s life.  He gave a few specific curricular examples. First, students should learn basics of statistics and probability instead of the quadratic formula.  In evidence of this, he asked the 200-plus member audience to raise their hands if anyone had used quadratic equations some time in the last ten years.  Only a ten or fifteen people responded.  He then refined the search by asking how many use quadratic equations in a way outside of teaching it to others.  Only three people were left with their hands up, with the conclusion that “the main purpose of teaching quadratic equations seems to be to enable the next generation of teachers to teach the quadratic equation.”  Perkins would describe the teaching of quadratic equations to be “niche learning” that may be important to a deep understanding of the field of mathematics but is not a lifeworthy topic.  Another example that he gave of niche learning that is taught in almost all biology classes is mitosis.  Instead of spending time teaching mitosis, he argues that schools should focus on topics like communicable diseases and how they spread in a global world.  The last of his example was the the teaching of the French Revolution.  If we are teaching the French Revolution as a stand alone piece of knowledge, then it does not meet the criteria of being lifeworthy.  But, we can investigate topics like social injustice through the lens of the French Revolution to make them relevant.

Perkins certainly does not want to abandon the traditional disciplines that are currently taught in most schools.  He begs us to examine what we teach and only teach what will provide insight, lead to action, or help develop ethics. We must incorporate the "lifeworthy" and dismiss the "lifewimpy."

Parallel Thinking

Two months ago conditions changed in my personal life that made me realize that I needed to shore up my credentials in order to be ready for the future.  I applied to and was accepted into an online Masters in School Administration program at Western Carolina University.  This masters program is designed primarily for public school educators who wish to work as administrators within the North Carolina State school systems -- a different path than I'm traveling.  As the start of the summer session came closer and closer, I kept feeling more and more apprehensive, not the type of nervous excitement that I got when I was driving to Sewanee from San Antonio in 1976, but more of a nervous anxiety driven by dread.  Something clearly was not right.  So, I had an informal meeting with two trusted friends, and they both told me to punt.  I punted, long and deep.  I think that I may have punted out of the stadium altogether.

My friend and colleague, Sam, made a podcast that focused on my situation and what he saw as the solution.  It will take you about twenty minutes to listen to, but it will be worthwhile.

How Should You Go to School?

At about the same time that Sam was making this podcast, I was typing this email to him:

Hi Sam,

I started extending the idea that I talked about in Missy's office to be an "experiment in higher education."

I am going to design my own masters program (maybe I will not use this term), using a template of courses derived from the best schools in the country.  I will create a blog to document my course work and reflections.  My coursework will be self-study, intensive workshops, on-line classes, collaboration with others who find their way to me from my blog, and ongoing dialogue with selected mentors.  I will ask my mentor/advisers to accredit and validate my coursework.  In the process, I hope to explore from the inside the new type of education that we know is going to influence the future world of education. 

I think we were both a little shocked when we read/listened to each others' ideas.  Parallel thinking with Sam Harrelson is pretty scary for me, and I'm sure it must have been scary for him to be thinking like me (but in an altogether different way).

This summer I will start my experiment in higher education, and I hope that you will be a part of it by reading my blog, offering suggestions, asking questions, and being a fellow traveler in pursuit of learning.