HS Principal

I have often worried that teachers are an unfortunate product of incestuous inbreeding and that is why we never progress as a profession. Let me explain. When I was a youngster in Catholic school, I was an excellent student. I brought home good grades, received monetary rewards for my A’s, set the bar high for my younger siblings, and received the “you can do better” lecture from my father as he fixated on the rare B I received in some area. The point is, I was good at school. My persistent fear has been that, like me, many teachers became teachers because they were good at school. The problem I saw in myself was that I became exactly the kind of teacher that taught me.

This was the beginning of my long, philosophical examination of the profession that accepted me as a lost and lonely scholar. Although I admired and respected my teachers, I did not want to be one of them. I didn’t think that what they did was all that interesting. I admired the depth of their knowledge, their wisdom and insightfulness. I loved the way they could think about things, make connections, synthesize information, and reach conclusions.  As teachers, they filled my head with information, which I assumed was the path to enlightenment: once I was full, I would be able to do all the things that I admired in them. As you might expect–and what I had feared–was I became a clone of my teachers.

At the risk of alienating everyone who was my teacher, I can honestly say that I did not have a lot of innovator instructors. In fact, I remember a terrifying moment in my graduate school career when suddenly I was expected to teach my first class. I had lots of seminars in literature, a methods class in how to become an academic and a methods class in “being a professor” which had little to do with being in a classroom and lot to do with research on the teaching profession. Armed with absolutely no practical guidance I tried to disguise my panic and casually inquired of my dissertation director, “What do I do?” Equally calmly he looked at me and asked, “Have you ever had any good teachers?” Of course, I replied. “Do what they did,” was his advice. For me, it seemed to be my destiny to become the kind of teacher my teachers were.

Having bypassed the school of education as an undergrad, I received even less training–if that is possible–as a graduate student. So if schools of ed–which have come under a lot of fire for their inability to train innovative instructors–and graduate schools fail to produce innovative teachers, where do they come from? I became an innovative teacher because I tried to answer the questions I was being asked by my mentor. He accepted me as the clone I was and supported me in my efforts in the classroom. In reality, I was no different–better or worse–than colleagues older or younger. I blended in perfectly. Yet his keen observations and penetrating questions forced me into deep and honest reflection on what I was doing and why.

Unable to completely break out of the box I was in and unable to answer the questions that challenged my assumptions about learning, I asked my mentor–my principal and a fellow instructor–if I could sit in and observe his class. I saw in action the answer to my questions and the depictions of what good teaching looks like. I suddenly understood that my answer to his repeated question: who is the hardest working person in your classroom was not something to be proud of. It was at the heart of how I could improve as a teacher.

My mentor was not the hardest working person in his classroom. I think I learned, over time, that he was probably the least prepared person in the room, class after class. I asked him, after 20 years of teaching Hamlet, did he ever tire of re-reading it as he prepared for class. He looked at me and said, I never re-read Hamlet to prepare for class. It puts too many answers in my head. I want the students to discover the answers on their own. The more I prepare, the more I tend to lead them where I want to go. That one response has done more to guide my thinking about teaching than all of the literature I have read about education. I return to that question over and over as I think about what it takes to be a good teacher.

The secret society I mentioned at the end of part I is really just my way of acknowledging the colleagues and mentors I have worked with over the years who have quietly and somewhat effectively  practiced and advocated for change through the mentoring process I experienced and described above. In a nutshell, I have come to embrace  Socratic teaching, critical thinking and questioning. I have had the privilege of working with so many great teaching minds that I have been able to formulate my own questions and apply them to my teaching staff as I work with teachers. Teachers cannot be changed, nor would I want to change them. But asking powerful questions that force them to look at what they are doing and to reflect on their effectiveness is what can be done. Ironically, in my own experience, the best teachers are usually the ones who actually think about the questions and are willing to reflect on what they do. The teachers who are most effective in the classroom are always the ones who end up changing. Their capacity for honest self-reflection and thought is what makes them effective teachers in the first-place, so it should be no surprise that quality feedback helps them to make changes and improve.

What I would like to see changed in schools for the 21st century:

• No grades
• The teaching of critical thinking–do away with individual disciplines and teach students how to think like scientists, historians, writers, and mathematicians.
• Second language immersion in the elementary grades (although I am focusing on high school, I needed to put that in as part of my core philosophy)
• Project based learning and authentic assessments
• The integration of all forms of technology so that students use the tools that are used in the world

Once again, I must apologize for my lack of profundity: nothing incredibly insightful or original in those ideas. So if these are commonplace ideas, backed by research, why are most schools still laboring in the Industrial Age?

Since colleges are beginning to drop SATs, and if we want to help bury the abomination know as Advanced Placement, we can meet colleges half way and eliminate grades. The implications are staggering. One only needs to read Alfie Kohn’s well-researched critique of grades to understand how they poison everything in education. The single educational reform of eliminating grades would have such wide-ranging effects that I would almost be willing to drop my other considerations. I say that because I feel that so many progressive ideas would flow into the void created by the elimination of grades that there would be no need to advocate for the other ideas.

The teaching of critical thinking as a subject goes hand in hand with the idea that we eliminate the need for disciplines. I know this concept baffles all educators except elementary teachers who have long understood the importance of integrating subject matter and teaching kids how to think. Students need to be precise and clear thinkers. There is so much in the world to think about, but if all you do is memorize facts for a test, what is the point? Learning how to think like a biologist enables students to understand the world as biologists understand it. They can then tackle projects individually and collaboratively which will sharpen their thinking skills as well as deepen their understanding of science and the natural world.

When my wife and I decided to venture into the world of international education, we were both asked to write essays articulating our educational philosophies. My wife left her job as a university professor to start our family and then, much to the dismay of her female colleagues, chose to stay home with our son rather than putting him in day care. We thought it would be a wash financially given the cost of childcare, but realistically it was a huge financial burden to us. Due to health issues, we simultaneously learned that he would be our only child, so her decision to stay home became even more meaningful for both of us.

My wife, who earned a PhD in literature, taught college, and currently teaches high school, has been either an educator or a mom her entire adult life. What she learned as a mom reinforced everything she was learning as a teacher, so writing that essay was easy for her. She explained her philosophy in very simple terms. She had the opportunity to interact every day with our son until he needed to be institutionalized (kindergarten). He learned how to eat, breathe, and crawl. He learned how to talk, walk, and read. He could memorize things, make things, distinguish things, and make choices. His learning—as is true for the learning of all children—was astonishing. My wife did not break his learning down into discrete subject areas.  His learning was naturally integrated and he learned by doing. When he tried to walk, he fell down. He picked himself up and tried again. My wife coached him throughout his childhood, but the learning was integrated, hands-on, and independent. There were no worksheets, no tests (tonight, right after dinner, expect a test on fine motor control before bed; it’s your midterm you know!) and no pop quizzes. Her philosophy of education was simply to describe the learning she had experienced in the raising of our son.

We both realized–she as a mom and I as a coach–that the child needed to be at the center of the learning and the doing. The worst tech instruction is when the impatient techie starts moving the mouse and clicking on the solutions. Problem solved but nothing learned. We learned to be effective teachers because my wife couldn’t walk for our son and I couldn’t shoot the free throws for my players. We could give feedback, model, encourage, and provide opportunities for safe practice, but we could not do. As teachers though, too often we want to do or tell or solve or explain without giving students the opportunity to try and fail.

But as has been my experience most of that kind of learning stops in junior high/high school, and that was certainly the case with our son. I have never been an elementary educator, but I definitely see a more progressive model of educating in the younger grades. When students reach the stage where they need to be graded we temporarily abandon all the models of learning that life has successfully equipped us with, we blindly abandon our reasoning and accept this bizarre model of teaching and assessing without question, and then jump back into the real world, never to return to the world known as school. Who decided that? Why can’t we break this addiction? Why must graduation from institutions be such a liberating experience rather than just another milestone? The transition back to collaborative learning, problem solving and critical thinking is, I assume fairly easy and natural. I never hear anyone in the world outside of school complain, gosh I wish our CEO would give us a lecture today on profit-sharing. And in the office, how long would the company tolerate the guy who never does his share of the group project. If you haven’t heard of the Marshmallow Challenge, check out this analysis of the experiment from Ted Talks

http://on.ted.com/8HBQ

I’m not sure exactly how that is relevant but I love how kindergarten grads perform better than business school grads.

We are institutional school junkies and I have been around so many addicts that I feel like I’ve had a career in a methadone clinic. At one school where grades were not part of the program through 4^th grade, the school made the bold and unpopular decision to extend the no grading policy through 5^th grade. Parents were told at 5^th grade back to school night by one veteran teacher: Don’t worry, we are not allowed to give grades, but I have a grade book and every move they make will be graded. If you want to know your child’s grade, you just ask! The junkies collectively sighed their relief.

I have nothing new to add to the grade debate except to say that as a high school principal I hold grades responsible for most of the cheating and plagiarism that exists in my school. I am working hard to change that culture, but it is not easy. The rest of my ideas fall naturally into place. Schools should be filled with communities of learners working together collaboratively to understand and explore the world. Technology that is used in place of old technology or ineffective ways of teaching dolled up with technology: lcd projectors instead of overheads, PowerPoint lectures instead of slide show lectures, etc. is not what I think of when I think of the integrated classroom. Technology is a tool and if learning is about critical thinking and creative problem solving, then kids should have the tools that are used to create, investigate, research, invent, synthesize and explore.

Often I sense I am preaching to the choir, but it is always comforting to know there are like-minded educators who are doing much more than I am to improve education. I am happy to learn from them, support them, and share their ideas. I am proud to be included in your numbers and hope that my thoughts inspire you to keep up the good fight.

It is a shame that education in the 21st century still looks a lot like education in the 19th century. We may have 21st century gadgets and other modern conveniences, but many of the premises and assumptions about education that held true at the inception of public education have continued largely unchallenged and unchanged.

Although there is no area of education or educational practice that has not been studied and scrutinized, and although there is a wealth of research to support change, most schools do little from year to year except update the handbook and change an elective or two. Schools roughly follow the same calendar from year to year:  mid to late August to early June. The core subjects are the same, the requirements the same, and the grade reporting the same.  After spending a few days examining the basics and essentials of most schools, one could safely conclude that school does not much resemble the real world.

In the real world, information is integrated. In schools, each subject is taught as a discrete and independent discipline. In the real world, teams of employees collaborate on projects and work together to solve problems. In schools, we call that cheating. In the real world, you are able to use all available resources to find answers, solve problems, and be creative. In schools you are expected to memorize isolated facts and then are evaluated based on your ability to recall those facts. The list goes on.

These are not new or insightful observations, and they are also gross generalizations. Obviously, some progress and change has occurred. Nevertheless, even in an independent, highly-respected college prep school such as CDS one cannot find evidence for the kinds of systemic changes that identify a school as progressive. CDS has put itself on the map as an innovative school to be sure. I don’t think there are any schools in AASCA that can say teachers at every grade level, preK to 12, have teachers using technology in the classroom. CDS is the only one.But the kind of change I am talking about is revolutionary, systemic change that acknowledges the need to educate students for college and careers in the 21st century.

There is ample research and evidence that we should change, not because we should imitate the real world, but because our current practices have very little to do with how children and adults learn and a lot to do with tradition. We are not adequately preparing our students for the 21st century. We are preparing them to do well on the SAT, an instrument of measuring student readiness for college that has proven to be flawed and ineffective. Yet, the SAT is a billion dollar industry that depends upon the efficacy of standardized testing. The SAT is not afraid to change. In fact they recognize that their days are numbered and each year they frantically tweak and alter and even overhaul the tests and procedures in order to appear relevant. Meanwhile, colleges are slowly moving away from the SAT’s, and gradually acknowledging that it unfairly benefits a small group of applicants. But until it is discredited and abandoned by colleges completely, high schools will continue to pretend that standardized test scores keep them from real, genuine, systemic innovation and change. But I pity the school that waits until that day comes because they will be so significantly behind the educational curve that I fear the number of changes they will need to make will cause that school to implode.

It is ironic that schools, places of learning and places where we supposedly teach kids to think critically, evaluate evidence and synthesize information in order to made thoughtful and educated choices, cannot apply itself to a problem that will ultimately determine its survival. We are so comfortable with how we currently do things that we blind ourselves to all of the contradictory evidence and summon our own evidence to support our unwillingness to change: we’ve always done it this way; I learned it this way; we have always taught this way and our kids get into the best colleges; the AP scores and SAT scores are proof enough that we are doing it right. If we rely on anecdotal evidence to support our unwillingness to change we are doomed to failure.

To understand how deeply committed we are to not changing, look at it from every point of view: the principal doesn’t want change because he doesn’t want to answer the questions or face the challenges of anxious parents, especially of the high achievers. The highest achievers at a school have the most invested in the current system. They will get the requisite test scores and grades to get into college. Ironically, even if change does occur–and the high achievers will definitely lead the fight against change–the highest achievers will always be recognized and always be rewarded. Their fears are irrational, but in their narrowness they recognize the advantages of the status quo. The current system reassures them of their place in the hierarchy and serves as their ticket to the competitive colleges. Even though, in the long run, those stakeholders will not be affected, there is no way to prove that and reassure them when the changes are first implemented. The parents and students must trust the administrator. It is a battle the principal must be supremely confident about. He must believe that the delivery of the changes, through his teachers, will be effective, and he must believe that those above him completely support him as they move forward. Those uncertainties make cowards out of most principals.

Unless they are teachers themselves, the parents only know the way things have always been done. Almost every parent has a reason to be suspicious of change. As I said above, if their child is a high achiever, the current system clearly works for them. Why change it? If their child is in the middle, they probably recognize that much of their child’s successes and failures has as much to do with the system as it does with actual learning. And change means they have to learn a new system! Very risky. What they don’t realize is real change is not about the institution and its rules, it’s about authentic learning and authentic ways of knowing and assessing. Progressive change in education is an acknowledgment of the current needs of the society and culture and an attempt to stay current. No profession can boast the kind of resistance to real change that education can boast. Can you imagine if medicine decided that change in medical practices was anathema to the profession? And finally, the low achieving student would seem to have little at stake in whether the system is changed or not, and might actually embrace the change. But what self-respecting principal or educator is going to advertise the parental support of the “bottom third” as reasons for accepting change? As much as the low achieving students might embrace change or benefit from change, the rest of the parents are not interested in how school-wide systemic change is going to benefit the lowest achievers in the school.

Teachers mostly fear change because it means a lot of work combined with the uncertainty of risk, and the potential for failure. These all go hand in hand. Do not isolate these fears and unfairly brand teachers, even though they are equally culpable in this resistance. Teachers are very diligent and do not fear working hard. In fact they work as hard if not harder than most professionals. They get chided for getting summers off, but not many professionals take home the amount of work teachers do and are also expected to contribute beyond what they were trained to do by coaching sports, advising and coaching academic teams, teaching electives, and so forth. Can you imagine being hired to work in a bank and then being told, oh, and by the way, we expect you to coach our co-ed softball team. Practices are 5 times per week (after work) and our games are on Saturdays. Mostly teachers resist change because they know how much work it takes to do what they currently do. They also know how much preparation and time it took to get to where they are. Change requires they learn new ways of doing things. It means spending the same or more time re-learning how to do what they feel they already do really well (which is why the blinders go on). What teachers don’t want to acknowledge is what they do well is run kids through a system that benefits a few and handicaps others. But once again, the irony can only make us shake our heads.

And believe it or not, students resist change. Kids know or learn very quickly that schools are institutions and that they have predictable patterns and ways of doing things. Like all systems, they can be learned, mastered, manipulated, and gotten around. Some students are excellent at memorizing and regurgitating. Some kids have mastered the art of school. Others know how to get by or get around in order to survive or excel. So change for them is as challenging as it is for teachers.

In part II of this piece I will examine a secret cult I belong to called the Progressive Order of Principals (not a real organization, so don’t bother Googling it or wondering why there is no hyperlink), and I will discuss some changes that schools should embrace in the next few years.

The end of third quarter has passed, spring has sprung, and the final push toward graduation reminds us that this time of year belongs to our seniors. The seniors have lots of good memories to look back on and an impressive array of  accomplishments to be proud of. They have been accepted to many excellent, selective, and competitive colleges, they have won prestigious awards and achieved both inside and outside the classroom. Whether they realize it or not, they are part of one of the most progressive eras in CDS history. Although we have had computers in the school for many years, never before have teachers integrated the use of technology in the classroom as they have this year. If I had to describe the class of 2010 in terms of their education at CDS I would call them the first truly digital class.

And yet, putting a label on this class does not do them justice. Obviously they consist of unique individuals who, when examined on their own merits, remind us that each label is either misleading or simply wrong in terms of describing the individual members of this class. I did not know these students before I arrived in the high school. In fact, it is fair to say that I know the juniors, sophomores and freshmen much better than I know the seniors having worked with the former in the middle school. But I can honestly say that I have grown very fond of these students and have developed relationships with them that I will cherish and remember.

Occasionally there are events or decisions that strain those bonds or challenge those relationships. Recently I had to shut down the senior lounge and I took no pleasure in doing so. I also even feel a bit reluctant to share this information with you because, in many ways, I consider it a private matter–between me and the seniors. However, I know it will be a very public issue and has already become a topic of discussion so I will share my thoughts.

I don’t know the history of the lounge but I can honestly say I have been uncomfortable with its existence since I arrived in high school. It is not that I do not trust the seniors, but it is  an issue of concern for many reasons. The lounge is very private–part of its point, I suppose–and it is difficult for me to walk by and know what is going on. As the principal, I must know what is going on at all times, and not being able to simply look and know makes me uneasy. I have to go out of my way to see if everyone is behaving and following the rules. However,  it also means I cannot know at a glance if everyone is safe. If something happened to a student who was alone in the lounge, I might not discover it for a long time.

I understand the seniors’ desire for a place of their own. I don’t agree that it should be a private place, but I understand the territoriality of groups. The senior lounge went beyond marking a special territory for the seniors. It gave them a private place and definitely elevated their position in the high school as a social group. At the same time, it posed a major inconvenience for me and my responsibility as their guardian. Nevertheless, I inherited the situation and I lived with it.

The seniors probably don’t realize that having their own place in a school with very limited space is incredibly fortunate. I currently do not have a dedicated classroom for every single teacher. We do not have a middle school library. We have one soccer field and one gym that the entire school must share. Despite these limitations we find ways to make it work and we thrive. Our student numbers have increased over the years and we have learned to adjust. I would like to think that we make full use of our facilities and take nothing for granted.

The seniors probably believe the reason for the closure hinges upon a single act of vandalism. I make that assumption because one very responsible individual cleaned up the mess after I closed the lounge and asked if it could be re-opened. As much as I appreciated the effort of this individual, I did not shut the lounge because of one act of vandalism. The graffiti was definitely the catalyst for the closing, but it was simply the last act of many that forced me to make the decision. And I do not blame this on the class of 2010. The acts of vandalism that forced me to close the lounge have gone on for several years without consequences.

The privilege of having a special place comes with responsibility. Over the years, many seniors chose to treat the space with less and less respect. Instead of doing everything they could to guarantee their right and the rights of future seniors to keep this privilege, individuals from each class chose to see how far they could go to challenge and disrupt that privilege. The vandalism would start from day one, escalate throughout the year and culminate in a final act that seemed to have to outdo the previous year. Rather than passing the torch to the next class the goal became to make the place as unwelcoming as possible to the new group. In other words, rather than taking pride in the privilege and passing it to the next group, the idea seemed to be: now that we are leaving we are going to destroy the decency of the place and make the next group suffer if they want to use it.

I know that all the seniors did not participate in vandalizing the lounge and school property. I also know that not all the seniors participated in cleaning and restoring the lounge after the damage done by the previous class. A group of seniors took charge of that task and the others simply benefited from it. I also know that many seniors chose to look the other way as their colleagues committed acts of vandalism, played music louder than was acceptable, and played music during class. I am not sure how many of them gradually joined in on the destruction as these acts grew in boldness and severity with seemingly no consequences to the perpetrators.

I spoke to the seniors at the beginning of the year about the group responsibility necessary to maintaining the privilege of the lounge. I warned them that if they did not police themselves the lounge would be closed. I allowed them many chances throughout the year, yet they continued the same pattern as in previous years. I have no animosity or hard feelings toward the seniors and I would hope the feeling is mutual. However, school is a place for learning.  Although many felt that they were entitled to destroy furniture because they purchased it, gradually that attitude was extended to school property. Although it is technically true that much of the furniture was purchased with class funds, I began to wonder what message we were sending: It is OK to raise money through school-sponsored activities in order to purchase furniture that you can destroy. I felt that what each class was learning was that it was OK to treat school property in a disrespectful manner because it was part of tradition.  This last act of disrespect crossed a line in my mind and despite threats that the lounge would be closed, no one addressed it, no one took responsibility, and no one seemed to care–until it was too late.

One of the main lessons we should be teaching our children is how to live in a democracy. We have individual freedoms and rights, but both children and adults seem to lose their way when faced with the acts of cowards. One coward ruins it for everyone else, yet we are reluctant to chastise or punish or disapprove of the actions of that one. But we shout loudly and collectively about how unfair we are being treated because of the actions of that one we are willing to hide and protect. I am not asking for a scapegoat or for the group to turn over any vandals. However, if the group valued its privilege it would have acted responsibly and solved this problem. There was never any reason for the adults to be involved.

If we truly value the rights and privileges that we have earned, then we must learn how to protect those rights and privileges rather than take them for granted. I view this incident as I view all events: as a teachable moment. I am open to discussion if students want to talk about how to preserve and maintain their rights and privileges. I am not going to change my decision, but I think a lot can be learned and we can avoid feelings of unfairness in the future if we learn how to be proactive and if we learn how to live as active and caring citizens in a democracy. But I have no interest in discussions that serve only to advance selfish causes.

I continue to admire and respect the class of 2010. I look forward to finishing the year strong and I hope we can maintain a healthy and respectful relationship. As I have told them many times, I am proud of their leadership, their accomplishments, and their individual glories. They have much to learn about privilege and responsibility and I know that they will learn from this. They are a proud, thoughtful, and intelligent group of seniors. It has been my privilege to work for them.