Archive for the ‘Reflections’ Category

Running Shoe Sketches and Three Minutes of Class Time

Wednesday, July 14th, 2010

I’m sharing this story with everyone so they might feel more confident about changing their agendas and schedules to focus on what’s real and important from time to time.

The other day my wife and I were out for a walk when a car that drove past us slammed on its brakes, made an abrupt U-turn, and drove right up to where we were walking on the sidewalk. I was slightly concerned until I saw who jumped out: a former student shouting, “Mr. Ross! Mr. Ross! I have to tell you … ”

Four years earlier I taught this boy, now a young man, in a 10th grade social studies class. He wasn’t what you would call a ‘strong’ social studies student, but I’ll be the first to admit that the content was not enthralling, and it most definitely wasn’t relevant to a lot of the 15 year olds in the class. Anyway, several times during that semester I saw Ryley drawing running shoes, and I thought, “OK, the boy likes running shoes.”

One day, however, during an open book exam, I walked past his desk and saw he hadn’t even started because he was busy drawing yet another picture of shoes. “Hmmm…” I thought, and asked him, “Ryley, what’s up with the running shoes?”

With a big, embarrassed smile, he replied, “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” I asked.

“No one knows. Like I always draw running shoes and I don’t know why. It’s weird, right?”

And here I saw a 15 year-old boy who knew he should be working on his in-class exam, who knew he wasn’t the strongest social studies student in the class, who knew that there weren’t many other kids who drew running shoes, and he looked pretty embarrassed being caught with what he thought was a weird habit.

“Not at all,” I said, “I think it’s great! How long have you been doing this?”

“Like for as long as I can remember. I’ve always wanted to make running shoes when I grow up.”

“That’s great!” I said and I proceeded to tell him – in the middle of the open-book exam, that he was lucky to know exactly what he wanted to do at such a young age. I had run this lesson with that particular class, so this advice wasn’t coming out of left field, and I encouraged him to sketch out a life-plan that included running shoes. “Heck,” I said, “I can just see me and everyone in this room one day paying big money for your shoes. Wouldn’t that be awesome if we were all wearing your shoes one day?”

He nodded and smiled, and I gently encouraged him to get started and do his best on the in-class exam. That was it. Three minutes of my time.

Fast-forward 4 years and here he is, jumping out of his car to tell me, “I’m doing it! I’m doing it! I sent my designs off to a manufacturer in China and I’m getting my first prototype in a couple of weeks.”

It took me a second to figure out what he was talking about and then, once I did, he and I excitedly told my wife about the story of him drawing running shoes in social studies class.

“You were the one Mr. Ross. You were the one who told me to do it. I just thought you’d want to know.”

(How much time did I invest? Three minutes. It had nothing to do with me … but anyways … )

And here I saw a young man who was excited about life and his future plans, confident about himself, and grateful to a former teacher for not scolding him for drawing pictures in class when he should have been working. It was pretty cool to say the least, and I’m happy I spent the two or three classes talking to that group of students about life.

I’m glad I chose to make an otherwise boring course meaningful instead of  simply ‘covering’ the curriculum.

I’ll end with Ryley’s words, who messaged me on Facebook the other day:

hey mr. Ross! hope your doing well, i just thought i’d tell you i’m leaving to florence italy on tuesday to attend Polimoda fashion university for shoe design!!

Focus on Student Actions and Choices, Not on the Student

Wednesday, May 5th, 2010

There’s a massive difference between someone judging you and someone judging your actions and decisions.

When someone says that you’re bossy, or timid, or too sensitive, what they’re doing – usually without even knowing it – is psychologically backing you into a corner. They’re dead-end conversations. You can’t differentiate you from yourself.  So when someone says, “You are this,” well it’s only natural to get defensive. “What?” you’ll say to yourself, “They’re saying this about me? How could they?  No, no, no! I’m not that.” And off you go mentally defending yourself from the direct judgment made about who you are.

On the other hand, if someone comments on something you have done or chose to do, then their remark isn’t as much about you as it is about your action or decision. There’s psychological wiggle room. There’s room for discussion and exploration.

The focus on the action or decision allows us to step outside ourselves.

We can safely reflect without worrying about threats to our identity.

Focusing on our actions and decisions enables us to detach from ourselves … a key ingredient for meaningful reflection.

We can even join the other person in a discussion about ‘the act’ or ‘the decision’ without discussing who or what we are (or aren’t).

Now this is all very esoteric stuff, but it has massive implications for teachers and their dealings with students. I’ll illustrate with two quick examples, and will let you mull it over thereafter. I would love to read your comments.

Example 1: The statement,

“Come on Susie, you have to be able to accept criticism in life if you want to be successful.”

is about who Susie is. If Susie was your student she’s going to be thinking she has to change, whereas this statement frees Susie from the worry about who she is and allows her to focus on the consequences of her actions and decisions:

“Susie, have you ever thought about how many growing opportunities you’re going to miss out on if you continue to cry/ blow-up / retaliate whenever someone tries to give you constructive feedback? You’re better than that. Do you really want to let those outbursts rob you of important information that could make you stronger … and maybe more successful?”

Example 2: Or what if a teacher asks a student to leave the room, or sit off to the side, or do push-ups for repeated misbehavior … and the student retorts, “Why do you always pick on me.” (I got this a lot this year). In my opinion, the teacher shouldn’t get into the ‘about me’ trap. The discussion should shift to one about actions and decisions. A reply like the one below points out to the student that he’s not the problem, it’s simply his actions and decisions that are causing him problems. So I would say,

“Gee, I don’t know Dylan. I wish I could answer that question, but only you can. You know, I don’t like it when you sit off to the side, but you keep saying and doing things that result in that happening. It’s not that you’re bad or I don’t like you. It’s just that you keep deciding to put yourself in this situation. What’s funny is that I don’t think you really want to be in this situation. It doesn’t make sense, really … but it’s not like you’re giving me any other choices.”

The point is this: Discussions about actions and choices enable far more meaningful and reflective conversations than “you/me” discussions can ever generate.

Deviant Thinkers, Schools, and Schools of Thought

Friday, February 5th, 2010

When I went over who Wilhem Wundt was with my psychology students yesterday – “the father of psychology” – I was struck by our text’s manner of introducing him as just another brilliant mind who floundered in school:

“Like many famous people, he (Wundt) got off to a rocky start. Darwin’s father, for example, had called his son a bum and told him he was too lazy and stupid to ever amount to anything. Albert Einstein, one of the world’s greatest mathematicians, kept failing high school math and failing college entrance exams. When he finally got through school, he said it had injured his mind. So, too, with Wundt: he had spent most of his time daydreaming and failing, for his teachers kept slapping him in the face (literally).”

To be honest, I automatically agreed with this statement as I went over it. How could you not? School is no place for brilliant, deviant, field-creating thinkers, right? How could it be? The mission of schools is to teach students about fields of knowledge that already exist, right? You couldn’t have a course titled, “Create a New School of Thought 12,” offered in the course calendar, could you? What would the prerequisites be? A track record of frustrating and annoying teachers? Daydreaming? What would its standards and benchmarks be? How could you blanket what a good school of thought was versus a bad one? Now that would be tricky!

Then I looked up at my students. They were just sitting there, patiently waiting in silence (I must have been staring into my textbook for a good while), and I asked myself: Do they need to flounder in school in order to be game-changers? How many Darwins, Wundts, and Einsteins have I taught? How many of my students have had the genius beaten out of them by red x’s, teacher sighs and eye-rolls, pre-packaged content, and standards and benchmarks that challenged them to ‘get’ what has already been discovered by others? How can I, with my prescribed curriculum, challenge them to discovering things for themselves? Are schools, then, worthless? Should I just stop the lesson and tell my students the dirty little secret that the author of this text is referring to?

I wish I could have seen the look on my face when I read the next sentence from the text:

“Fortunately, a few teachers saw the promise of greater things in him (Wundt) and helped him to pull himself together.”

“Aaah,” I thought, “That’s why we’re here.” And with that bit of paradoxical irony, I continued on with the lesson.

*            *            *

End Note: (and I’m not joking)  After class a student (who a colleague of mine referred to as the boy “With a lot of stuff going on in his head,”) came to my desk and asked if I had ever read Julian Jaynes’ The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown in the Bicameral Mind. Ironically I had. I couldn’t believe it! That book was/is the most mind-blowing, field-converging book I have ever read. I was 24 when I read it and it took me a long time to get through it. This student is 16 and I got the sense that he read it over a weekend. We talked for some time and he ended by saying how one of his goals in life is to learn lots about a lot of different things so he can create his own insightful conclusions and associations … just like Julian Jaynes (and Darwin, Wundt, and Einstein if I might add). It was a perfect way to end the class.

Does Class Size Matter?

Sunday, January 24th, 2010

Every so often I encounter a discussion with someone who doubts whether or not class size really matters for effective teaching and learning. I’m sure there’s evidence to support this, but I usually respond by saying that a class of 21 or less is more than manageable. I don’t know why this is, though, but every student over 21 is noticeable … up until about 28, and then it’s just a big class. Every student less than 21 isn’t nearly as noticeable. Speaking from my own experience, in a class of 21 or less it feels like it’s possible to get to work with each student.

Then I ask the inquisitor to picture spending a weekend afternoon with seven (or more) children and/or teenagers in their house. Like really … close your eyes and picture what would it look like? What would you do to prepare for their arrival?  Would it be noisy? Would it be enjoyable?  Would you want a break? Or five?

Then I explain that that is exactly the difference between 21 and 28, except that there’s already 21 children and/or teenagers in the room.

That’s why class size matters.

Teachers and the Business of Learning Resources

Monday, December 7th, 2009

Last week I presented The Civic Mirror to a group of student-teachers at the University of Victoria. What followed was an online conversation about teacher-created learning resources and their ‘ethical’ implications.  I feel that others might be interested, so I’m posting my reply here:

Thanks, Jimmy-Jo, for the reply.  I’m sipping my coffee before another work day and will reply to the following statements below:

“How do you justify charging the same teacher or class over and over again for the same product? Why isn’t it enough to sell your product once to a class or teacher?”

“You mention in your response to me that I ‘don’t like that [you] are building a business out of the notion of simulations’ and that you ‘really get that sentiment.’ I would be interested in knowing just how you get my sentiment. Like I already said, I don’t have a problem with you making a business out of simulations. I just have a problem with it when it imposes a barrier ($$) to students’ opportunities. It seems a case of the haves getting what the have-nots cannot, simply because there is a monetary barrier.”

I suppose what I mean is that “I get” the ‘good teacher’s’ notion of universal sharing and service. I was raised by teachers. I grew up listening to the stories – observing my parents sharing ideas and strategies with their teacher friends. I remember my Dad – as a vice principal no less – remaking an educational board game for one of his teachers in the garage because there was no money in the school budget (it was late in the year, $$ gone) to purchase it, and he really thought highly of the teacher who wanted it. And I’m still restricted by $$ at my school today (e.g. our SS department has an annual operating budget of $1200 for 10 teachers and 1400 students – ouch). So what “I get” is the frustration, the spirit, and the principle of what I thought you were talking about (because it’s ubiquitous); maybe not what you were feeling/thinking exactly, but I thought I understood the gist. Sorry if I misinterpreted.

“Remember, we are teaching in a public school system, which is supposed to be free, unbiased and accessible to all”

Agreed, but what I’m learning – and very acutely as we sink more and more money into this start-up to get it off the ground – is that any sort of organizational entity needs money to stay afloat. Public education raises their money through taxation. Non-profits raise their money through donations and grants. Businesses raise their money from ready, willing, and paying customers. The public education system is not in the business of producing and publishing learning resources. They provide education. They simply can’t do both. Producing and publishing is left to non-profit and for-profit publishing companies.

Whole departments within school districts, states, and provinces exist to purchase learning resources so that their students and teachers may benefit from the educational experiences they provide.  Again, the benefit lies in the educational value they provide. These departments do not exist, as one of your classmates seemed to indicate, in order to pass on dollars to students in a trickle-down effect. The benefit comes from what they provide educationally. As I’m sure you know, the resources and infrastructure all publicly-funded institutions use to carry out their mandate are largely provided and purchased from private companies.

Admittedly, I knew nothing about business when I started this. That’s why I took a Graduate Diploma in Business Admin beforehand. I thought the most foolish thing I could have done was start a non-profit or for-profit venture and not know how to run it successfully. While studying I realized I had two choices: build Action-Ed as a non-profit or for-profit organization. I chose for-profit because it’s much more fluid, because I wouldn’t have to apply for money at the end of every fiscal year and be limited (and possibly compromised) by what the reviewers thought was worth funding, because growth (and the change the growth creates) is unlimited, and because – yes – there might come a day when my family’s financial situation benefits too.

I’ve been saying for some time that education needs better tools.  I’ve also been saying that it isn’t fair how little autonomy teachers have in the purchasing of learning resources. What’s ironic, I suppose, is how few teachers question or critique the motives of big publishing companies who – right now – have billions of dollars in cash-on-hand, but critique and judge the teacher-turned-small-publisher for doing the same thing.

I think the sentiment is like this because so few teachers understand how learning resources are purchased by schools and districts. Teachers can visualize themselves making a go of it, so it’s easy to pass judgment on another teacher who does. It’s difficult, however, to comment on something (in this case, the monstrous learning resource industry) when you don’t know much about it. I understand why this is. Very few teachers are readily provided with access to their school’s or district’s operational budgets. In fact, you’d be sure to ruffle some feathers if you asked for full disclosure. Teachers can make requests to purchase resources for their classrooms, but few are given the actual authority to make small or medium purchases, let alone large ones. Teachers are not given financial autonomy at all, really.

As a result, most teachers – because they’re not given access to money and therefore do not understand how the learning resource acquisition process works – think there’s no money available when there really is. The ‘pots of money’ do exist, but they’re heavily guarded with rules and procedures and controlled by only a few. I understand the reasons for this, but it has it’s consequences.  Most teacher’s I’ve talked with (especially in Canada) are blown away when I explain to them how many tens-of-thousands of dollars (and into the millions in some cases) are reserved for learning resource acquisitions. I think this has a lot to do with why ‘changing education’ is seemingly impossible. If the avenues for creating and using new educational tools are full of impenetrable barriers, why bother?  Indeed, the status quo is heavily entrenched.

So in response to your question of how I justify charging the same teacher and school for the same product over and over again, I justify it because it provides an incredible educational experience that the teacher or school – in my opinion – wouldn’t be able to provide on their own. It’s a resource for students to learn about themselves, life, and how the world works. And I’d like to think that the testimonials indicate as much. That’s worth something.

It’s funny because when The Civic Mirror was in its paper, cut-out card phase, there were lots of teachers who wanted to use it, but when I explained how they had to create their own money, economic unit cards, hex maps, points cards, spreadsheets, etc., most of them shivered and walked away. The idea with Action-Ed was to take the leg-work out of the process, which is incredibly valuable in and of itself for over-worked teachers. That’s worth something.

If I left The Civic Mirror in its paper cut-out form, would anyone use it? If no one used it, would any students (other than my own) benefit from the insights and experiences it provides? In fact, I went out of my way to share the program with other teachers when  the simulation was in that basic form and teachers didn’t wanted to use it! It was too much work! And that’s understandable. Now that the Civic Mirror is published, digitized, and easy-to-use, it is much more valuable. That’s worth something.

When I consider how much educational value The Civic Mirror provides students and teachers with, it’s a steal.  If, however, a principal or learning resource purchasing agent doesn’t want to support a teacher’s use of it, is it Action-Ed’s fault?  When my school decided not to purchase the $400 psychology video series I would wanted for my Pscyh 11 class (plus the $1000 Canadian school public viewing license fee), is that the video production company’s fault? No.

DIFFERENT GOALS
At the end of the day, districts, schools and state/provincial departments of education can spend their money however they like; they have the right to provide their teachers with whatever resources that they think are best and within their budgets. Learning resource publishers, on the other hand, have to figure out ways to remain ‘going concerns.’  That starts with creating quality learning resources that teachers, schools, and districts believe are worth paying for.  If a publisher doesn’t do that, they won’t be around for long. Teachers actually have a lot of power in this regard (i.e. they’ll stop using ineffective learning resources). Learning resource publishers must also consider how to price their products so as to reflect the value they provide, while ensuring that the price is purchasable. If they don’t do this right, they’ll be gone too.

In sum, unlike the mandate of public schools that you referred to, the mandate of learning resource companies – both big and small – simply has to be different than the public school mandate. They generate revenue differently, and do different things. Although publishers can help public schools reach their mandate (e.g. by making exceptions and providing assistance to struggling schools and districts from time to time) their primary concern must be to build a happy and satisfied customer base willing to pay for the educational benefits their resources provide.

If, on the other hand, you’d like to read a great conversation on whether it’s ethical for teachers to charge for lesson plans, worksheets, and other items, this conversation is definitely worth a read.