Yesterday, I wrote about two of my big picture takeaways from the first day of Educon. Day 2 indeed continued that pattern. I still heard references to student voice and student passions in every session. And my assumptions continued to be challenged, and are continuing to be challenged today as the “Educon hangover” sets in and the extra thoughts that didn’t fit into the weekend are leaking out into the Twittersphere.

There were a couple of other big themes that surrounded everything at Educon this year. They aren’t anything new, but I believe that because they keep coming up and aren’t going away, they might qualify as enduring understandings about learning.

Connect

Earlier this evening, Dean Shareski tweeted:

I believe that connection is a multiplier. When we learn something alone, it has power. But when two people learn and share together, we both get twice as much out of it. There’s a (forgive the word) synergy in the learning process when we are connected with other learners.

Then when we share the learning with others and they share it, it gets multiplied exponentially. There’s some truth to the criticism that the edublog community (and many of those who attend Educon) can become an echo chamber of the same ideas circulating round and round, over and over. But consider that every day, new faces join this community. They have some catching up to do, and when we “rehash” an old idea in getting them up to speed, we can also refine and rework it.

Every person who chews on an idea and then passes it along to the next person adds a layer of value. Chris Lehmann constantly reminds those who praise him for what he has done at SLA that he “stands on the shoulders of giants.” We also stand on each others’ shoulders.

It can be intimidating to enter a connected community. It’s easy to bounce around, watching everyone else who’s already connected and think that there’s no room left. I understand that a few people experienced this at Educon and left feeling isolated. I’ve been contemplating whose responsibility it is to correct this. I do believe this community is a welcoming one: in the couple of years that I’ve been actively Tweeting and blogging, I’ve found dozens if not hundreds of people willing to hear my ideas and engage in the conversation with me. Those who jump in and start contributing and looking for ways to connect won’t be disappointed. (As if to reinforce this exact idea, as I was writing this post, I saw a link to this document from Chris Lehmann’s session at Educon. Check out the highlighted sentence that one of the participants added.…)

But I think we also need to go out of our way to invite new voices into the conversation. We need to model our own learning community after the ones we want to see in our classrooms and schools. If any student feels alienated, we’ve not done our jobs as educators. Likewise, if a fellow teacher-learner feels we’ve created barriers to entering the conversation, what does that say about what we really value in a learning community?

Act

The last theme is that we need to take action. This also happens to be the eventual cure for the echo chamber. This also happens to be the hard part. In several sessions, we were really good at explaining our reasoning, at expounding on the principles, at building a case and building a theory. When the leader asked, “So what do we do with it? How do we put it into practice? How do we make this happen?” There was generally silence.

I’ll be blatantly honest: I’m not sure I know the answers to those questions either. But I do know that this year—instead of having an awesome weekend of connecting with other educators and learning from them and reflecting on the process in a blog and then forgetting about it until next January—I’m going to follow Lisa Thumann’s lead and create an action plan.

At the same time, I’m reminded that talking or writing about something is taking an action. Words are powerful, and words can change the world. For me, words are often the best way for me to have an impact on someone else, so blogging and talking about these ideas is my first step at taking action. But I don’t think we can stop there.

I wrestled a great deal this weekend with whether change needs to happen through evolution or revolution. This isn’t a new dilemma, but I thought about it from the action angle this week. In my sphere of influence, it often feels like all I can do is chip slowly away at bits of the corners, and I wonder if that will be enough to ever make any kind of difference for kids. Then I realize that while I’m chipping, I can also keep talking about the ideas, and perhaps I can help others decide to start chipping at their own corners of the problem. If enough people chip slowly, it won’t be slow any more.

I’m partway through my second Educon, and as I found the first time around, my brain is having trouble keeping up with the intensity of learning that is going on. I continue to be amazed at the number of educators willing to spend an entire weekend, almost around the clock, thinking deeply and richly about education and how we can make it better for our students. And I’m not just talking about how to improve computation or comprehension or proficiency scores. I’m talking about people who are constantly poking at the whole idea of what education is for and how it should work at a fundamental level and what it needs to look like today, next year, and in the next few decades.

If you want an example of what’s good and great in education today, if you want to meet the best of the best educators, come to Educon.

Also as I discovered last year, there are a few big themes that seem to be emerging from the conversations, both formal and information, that I have participated in so far. I imagine that some of this is a result of my own bias and self-selection–I do tend to end up with people and in sessions that already lean the same way I do, after all–but these seem to be pretty consistent no matter which particular cluster of people I land in. I’m not going to attempt here to analyze these themes in any great depth (I’ll save that for future posts), but simply to put out some of the raw thoughts for your consideration. Push back, pick at the parts I am not considering or grasping properly, and continue the conversation that is going on in Philadelphia this weekend.

Voice, Choice and Passion

We talk a lot about student-centered learning in education today, but much of it revolves around differentiation and keeping student abilities and needs in mind as we deliver our prescribed curriculum. But what about student-DRIVEN learning? Give students more freedom to express themselves, to explore and discover what they are passionate about.

We are wrestling with the very nature of what school and education are for here. What is our role? What are the limits of that role? Or are there any? Part of me believes that more than simply training kids to be competent adults (which I do think is part of our mission), we have a bigger question to help students answer: Who am I, and what is my place in the world? On the other hand, I’m not sure I want schools to shoulder all of that responsibility. That’s what families and communities and faith are for, too.

I believe part (or perhaps most) of our job is preparing kids to make a contribution to the world (I could well be wrong about that, of course). Different kids will make different contributions. Different kids SHOULD make different contributions. So should we be working harder to mold students into our box, or should we be refitting the box to accommodate the students? The Educon conversations seem to be pushing that even further: we need to let the students design and build their own boxes.

Challenging Assumptions

Another frequent theme that is arising this weekend is the idea that we can’t be content with our assumptions. More times than I can count, I have been involved in a conversation where the comments settle into a comfortable place where we mostly agree on the principles, then someone (sometimes me) says, “Wait a minute,” and points out that the assumptions behind the principle aren’t necessarily givens.

There are dual dangers, I think. If we get too complacent in what we “know” is true about students, or schools, or education as a whole, we can’t innovate and adapt to the world. But if we are too skeptical, if we only ever act as if all our assumptions are potentially wrong, we may never actually act on anything.

But I think we probably ought to lean much harder towards regularly stepping back and analyzing what our assumptions are. Students change and the world changes quickly enough now that things that really were true last year may not be true this year.

A question I am starting to ask myself in every conversation and with every book I read is “What are the biases and preconceptions that are framing my point of view, and what happens to the argument if I turn them upside down?”

Now I need to figure out how to bring these ideas back to my district and what to do with them in the context of every day school life. What are the practical applications of these ideas about student passion and assumptions? What do they look like in a classroom? How does productive change happen? Maybe today’s sessions will move me towards some answers.

[This article is cross-posted at The Teachers Lounge blog. Thanks to Brandi Jordan for the invitation to guest blog there.]

Last week, my family and I went to see a stage adaptation of The Little Prince. A scene in it reminds me of the always-complex, sometimes-awkward relationship between parents and school administrators, particularly when it comes to determining what is best for a child.

In the play, the Little Prince meets a fox in the Sahara desert. The Prince is cautious of the fox, but is also curious. Then the fox makes an unusual request: for the Prince to tame him.

1. Administrators are human beings. This is both a positive and a negative. We are imperfect. We have feelings, strengths, and limitations. We need to learn and grow, just as you do. We get anxious and tired and frustrated just like you do.
2. Administrators care about your child. Our level of concern is different, and we care in different ways, but I do not know a single school administrator who thinks of your child as simply a test score, a “student of the month” certificate, or a discipline report. We are in this business to help children, and we work hard to make that possible for every child in our care.
3. We are not the enemy. That we have a different perspective and possibly a different solution to a problem does not mean we are opponents. Entering the process with the assumption we are looking forward to putting up roadblocks and launching counterattacks just invites anxiety.
4. This is not a contract negotiation. A corollary to #3 is to remember the objective of any meeting with a school administrator. The goal is not for one “side” or the other to “win,” and if either party enters the situation with the sole purpose of getting what they want, then the only loser will be the child. There are no sides, or rather there is one side: the needs of the child. Enter instead with the intention of agreeing together first about the problem, then to work as a team to create a solution that works for everyone.
5. Administrators have the same goal as you.… We want your child to learn, grow, and succeed. Just as you do. You know your child as an individual far better than we ever can, and just as the fox advises the Prince to do, a wise administrator will spend a great deal of time patiently listening to a parent in order to understand.
6. …but our context is different. Please remember that the administrator knows the teachers, the curriculum, the school and the field of education far better than you do. It is also our job to ensure that school resources are used equitably and responsibly, and we are often forced to make difficult compromises. A little time invested in trying to comprehend our world will go a long way in building a good working relationship.

Just like the fox and the Prince grow to need each other, so do the parent and the administrator. Neither of us can do our jobs well without the support and collaboration of the other.

Parents may feel intimidated or defensive when meeting with administrators, and this leads to meetings where the parent comes in “armed for bear” (or perhaps foxes) and anticipating a fight. Try instead to tame the school administrator with a little patience and understanding. Steven Covey, author of 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, includes this as Habit 5: Seek First To Understand, Then To Be Understood. Do this, and you will probably find that you and your child have an excellent experience with the school.

One last tip: Unless you happen to know that they are fans of The Little Prince, it may not be a good idea to actually tell an administrator you are trying to tame them. Let that just be between us.

I am soon going to need a new car. The one in this picture would be just about perfect. Care to donate to my replacement fund? Yeah, didn’t really expect so.

So why is it that you’re not willing to help me get the transportation I need? Because you can see that what I’m asking for is really a want. It may very well be that my car needs to be replaced soon, and having reliable transportation is in fact important to me, but there’s no real reason I need to spend almost $67,000 to get it.

The distinction between wants and needs is not always so clear, especially when it comes to educating our children. In the years I have been a teacher and a parent, one of the most frequent sources of conflict between parent and school has been disagreement about whether something is a need or simply a want.

When these conflicts arise, it’s helpful to step back and refocus on goals. While we would all love to have a Lexus education for our children, sometimes the Chevrolet is sufficient to accomplish the job.

A few thoughts to consider when you find yourself on either side of a difficult discussion about what a child needs in school:

• Remember that this is about the student. Focus on the goal you have agreed on. If there is no defined goal, then back up another step and talk about that goal before trying to plan for it.
• Remember that everyone involved in the discussion is fighting for the same thing, ultimately: the welfare of the child. Rather than being opposing forces in a battle, think of everyone at the table as being members of the same team with different specialties. Being on the same team means that we all win or lose together.
• List all of the options being considered, as well as any options that were rejected. Consider each in light of the goal, and from the student’s perspective. Often by putting things down in writing, we gain clarity about the difference between wants and needs.
• Be honest about the strengths and weaknesses of each option. No plan is perfect.
• Avoid compromise. Although it is sometimes a necessary last resort, compromise often patches together bits of incompatible plans and creates something that is unworkable. Instead, aim for consensus.
• Sometimes there is no best option—just a collection of good ones.
• Consider asking the student for his or her input. Even young children can often express what they need in a way that helps cut through a disagreement.
• Don’t ignore the emotional responses of the parties involved. If a parent, classroom teacher, or student is strongly opposed to a plan, no matter how excellent it may be, it is not going to be implemented as designed, and it will likely fail.
• Everyone should walk out of a meeting feeling like they were heard and understood, and that the agreed plan is satisfactory, at least on a trial basis. Persuasion is fine, but if anyone involved feels like they were badgered into agreement or backed into a corner, no amount of effort on the part of the other parties will make it fully successful.

What other ways do you focus a conversation about how to meet the needs of a student?

Robert Sternberg, in a recent issue of Educational Leadership, asks what it means for a school to be excellent. Too often, a school’s own definition of excellence is defined by the performance of a subgroup of students. The school looks solely at the improvement in performance of the bottom students, or the very top, or perhaps that group just on the cusp of proficiency. He argues that instead, schools ought to focus on excellence for all students, and that the numbers will fall into place as a result of that changed focus.

According to Sternberg (2008), in addition to the traditional 3 R’s, we also need to be teaching students Reasoning, Resilience, and Responsibility. I believe this is particularly important for gifted students, who can often learn the basics of academic content quickly but have more difficulty with these “Other Three R’s”. What if when we compact the curriculum for these children we were to focus our enrichment work on teaching these new skills?

Unfortunately, they can’t develop in a vacuum. All three skills (and, I would argue, all of the traditional three as well, past a certain level) require students to interact with others on a deep level. But how can we do that when we may only have one student in a classroom (or perhaps even in an entire school) who can move quickly into this area of learning? Certainly we want to provide these opportunities for all students on a regular basis. But Reasoning, Resilience, and Responsibility can be more of a centerpiece for gifted students who are capable of engaging them at a depth that other students may not attain until much later.

One solution to this is to provide more opportunities for gifted students to interact with their intellectual peers. Creating situations where this is possible can be a challenge, however. If there are only a few gifted students in a school, even when they are all together, the level of interaction is not high.

Online tools can provide a way to expand the connections for our gifted children. Andrew Torris recently wrote about how social networks and online collaboration can help educators to be more engaged with each other in their own professional development. Many of the same arguments he gives, and indeed, many of the same scenarios he describes, apply as well to gifted children in our classrooms.

I have recently experimented with using a wiki to allow students from multiple schools to work together and interact on a common project. There have been some successes and some challenges, and the level of interaction so far is not high. But even at this very basic level, my students have gotten a glimpse of the power of networking, and as my own professional network grows, I hope to find ways to add to my students’ network of colleagues.

Torris ended his article with a powerful video. I’m including it here also because it emphasizes the importance of sharing, collaboration, and learning to network. Watch it twice—once from the perspective of your students, and once with your own professional growth in mind. Then think: How can we begin to move back towards excellence, first in our own lives, then in our instruction, so that all students can gain meaningfully from their time in our classrooms?

References

Sternberg, R. (2008). Excellence for all. Educational Leadership, 66(2), 14–19.