Friday, April 24, 2015

It's Not All About the Curriculum

After reading many articles, monographs and books as well as attending conferences all on the topic of education, here's what I've learned:

The most important criterion that maximizes student learning is teacher moderation, system leaders attending professional development with their teachers, differentiated instruction, critical thinking, safe schools initiatives, coaching, teacher collaboration, and the list goes on (subject-verb agreement error intended).

Other related research-based evidence seems to indicate that what really makes a lasting impact is student mental health initiatives, connecting with positive adult role models, inquiry, 21st century skills, character education... (again: subject-verb agreement error intended).

From conversations with many excellent teachers, I've learned that what goes around comes around, the pendulum has swung too far the other way, we need more money for books, the system/board/jurisdiction is top heavy and out of touch -- when was the last time they were in a classroom? -- what we really need is more (fill in the blank) and less (fill in the blank).

Many of the above arguments are equally passionate, well-reasoned and researched.  

Stakeholders?  I could give yet another compelling list of what parents and taxpayers think are the most important factors.  When was the last time you heard a rant that starts with, Well when I was a student...?

Speaking of students: yes, let's not forget them.  The board I'm part of just held a student voice forum in which we discovered that students want more group work/less group work; more smartboard activities/less smartboard activities; showing movies good/showing movies bad...

Reflecting on this dizzied me until one day I was introduced to a theological model -- quite the leap, I know -- which suggests that the quest for ultimate spiritual truth is not as simple as exclusively examining  the holy scriptures.  Wars have been waged over the disagreement on how the holy texts inform us about truth.  The Wesleyan Quadrilateral suggests that the quest for truth comes from the complex interaction of, yes, primarily scripture, but also tradition, reason and experience.

This got me thinking; and my thinking led me to unabashedly rip off the Wesleyan Quadrilateral to create my own model for what I'd like to call Educational Epistemology (fancy for informed practice).

Here's what I'm suggesting: informed practice -- whether we're talking about a board, a school or a classroom -- comes most definitely from starting with current policy, curriculum and research, but also considering educated reason (the science of human behaviour, for example) and experience  (real-time, on-the-ground as well as historic practice).
I've come to believe that those of us who are not in the classroom not only run the risk of alienating teachers when we tout the latest and greatest pedagogical thinking, we also often devalue their real concerns; when they tell us that won't work in their classrooms, we should listen very carefully. We should allow it to inform our thinking. On the flip side, I've also come to believe that too often the dismissal of current educational research comes not out of informed conscientious objection but rather out of fear of the unknown and/or -- quite frankly -- laziness.  So where does informed practice lie?  It lies in the intersection between policy and experience and it happens best when the two camps truly honour and value each other.

The same can be said of educated reason and policy or practice.  For example, one of the best books I've read about education is one which is not primarily about education.  It is Daniel Pink's Drive. In Drive, Pink argues that people are mostly motivated by intrinsic -- not extrinsic -- factors. Pink dedicates an entire chapter to education which, without going into the details, makes some very relevant points. Having said this, I wouldn't use the entirety of Daniel Pink's Drive as a blueprint to overhaul education. I would, however, strongly consider what his research says about how motivation and change happens; and I would look at Pink's  research in light of how our curriculum, policy guidelines and experience inform us.  That is, where do the circles intersect?

One of the reasons why I've been contemplating this as much as I have been lately is because next year I will be going back to the classroom. Tonight, I will lead a group of teachers as we examine the importance of student choice is developing secondary school reading programs. We will specifically discuss gender-specific book clubs, literature circles and classroom libraries.  I believe that what I will tell them is true. I've even practised some of what I will preach later today.  I do, however, have this niggling fear that next year when research meets practice -- my practice --  I'll be eating some of my words. More accurately, I'll be redefining informed practice as it lies in the sweet spot where everything I've learned  -- about education and all things closely related -- meets the 80 or so students with whom I will be entrusted.  In other words, I would hope that I will not rely solely on policy, on experience or on reason.  Rather, I would hope that all three will inform how I practice next year.



Sunday, April 12, 2015

The Truth About Stories

I've thought about the power of stories lately both from a positive and a negative point of view. I recently read Thomas King's The Truth About  Stories.  Originally delivered as CBC Massey Hall lectures in 2003, King makes a strong case for the power behind the dialectic of conversation and the oral tradition vs the autocracy often engendered by the Western written tradition. I don't entirely agree with his premise.  I don't think it's totally fair to western thought, but the idea of a conversation coming from a more humble place than the written law isn't lost on me.

To sum up the positive: story has the power to move people like research and data can't; in King's words: "The truth about stories is that that's all we are."

I believe I mentioned the story of an educational company's CEO in a previous post. I took a couple of colleagues to hear him share his story. The short version is that the head of this educational company barely scraped though high school and that feat was mostly due to his tenacity but also in part to teachers who understood that his *learning style was nontraditional. One of my colleagues found his story so inspiring that he vowed to use his educational modification platforms to differentiate for his struggling students. 

In my 3 year tenure as a curriculum consultant, I've often shared stories to try to motivate the educators I've worked with. I've shared my own stories -- my favourite is that of my grade 8 teacher who assured me that I'd fail high school English because my spelling was so atrocious.  My point in sharing this story is to motivate teachers to look beyond what they think they see before them in their classrooms.  

I've also told stories I've heard from others. I've shared both failures and successes.  But sometimes I worry that I'm becoming that guy. You know that guy: the one who's always sharing the same stories? That guy whom people dismiss as high on feeling but low on substance? 

That's the negative possibility of story-telling in my estimation.  It's easy to dismiss as unsubstantiated opinion; sugary anecdote not backed up with research or data.  It's especially easy to dismiss stories when they're closely connected to the ego of the teller. 

I was recently at a conference in which one of the speakers -- an internationally renowned educator -- peppered her presentation with constant references to her status, achievements and jet-setting.  One table of teachers with whom I was familiar started to tally the number of times that she dropped the fact that she was currently a superintendent.  How unfortunate that, for these teachers, her ego undermined what was otherwise a well-researched and powerful message. 

As usual, I don't believe that the truth about sharing research to practitioners is a matter of either/or.  I believe it's a both/and.   

Stories are powerful.  According to King, it's all we are.  I would add two things in the case of telling stories with a didactic purpose (to move practitioners forward in their thinking): one is that the teller of stories should have a greater, nobler goal that drives the story -- and, as mentioned above, her ego should be in check. It also goes without saying that her stories should be powerful.  Two, is that  research and data can't hurt.

That's what I love about writers like Malcolm Gladwell. He manages to blend the two perfectly.

King ends every chapter/lecture with the same charge; at the risk of coming across egotistical, I will do likewise:  "[This story is] yours.  Do with it what you will.  Tell it to friends... forget it.  But don't say in years to come that you would have lived your life differently if only you had heard this story.  You've heard it now."
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