The Culture of Learning

A number of years ago, in another professional life, I was engaged by the Japanese Ministry of Education to review the delivery of their educational programmes, their teacher training, and their five year plan for moving forward. I spent a month touring schools; meeting with teachers, parents and students; consulting with university and Ministry personnel; and sitting in dozens of classes.

One experience during this time still stands out for me. I was in a classroom in a university laboratory school in Hiroshima. At the front of the class was a senior mathematics teacher – his back to the room – scribbling formulas on the whiteboard and muttering fairly incomprehensibly about what he was doing. At the back of the class were ten student teachers furiously copying down everything that he wrote so that they could someday use it in their own classrooms. In between were forty Grade 12 students who were paying no attention whatsoever. There were lots of conversations going on, some outstandingly artistic doodles being created, and a number of people catching up on an obvious lack of sleep – but no-one was actually learning mathematics. In my post-class focus groups, I discovered two things. To begin with, the teacher felt that it was his responsibility to teach, but not to ensure that anyone actually learned. Secondly, the students felt that it was their responsibility to learn, but that the venue for that was not school, it was at home or at an after school cram session where they would spend hours self-teaching and practicing problems. It was this disconnect that the government was trying to address. The challenge was, that the issue was more cultural than pedagogical.

Neil Postman once said that hearing a teacher say “I taught it, it’s just that they didn’t learn it” is akin to hearing a car salesperson say “I sold it, it’s just that they didn’t buy it”. We know that effective teaching and learning is an interactive process, and that to be meaningful, both partners have to actively engage in it.

Fast forward to last year, in his book The Outliers, author Malcolm Gladwell looked at predictors for success in international, standardized mathematics examinations. It was his rather astounding discovery, that there was a direct correlation between how students filled out their demographic information with how they performed on the test. Those national groups of students who were disciplined enough to complete the pages of 120 identifying data questions (birth date, gender, level of education, etc.) did significantly better on the exam than those students who rushed through the “boring” demographics and jumped feet first into the problems. Gladwell concluded that the issue in math performance in this instance was not pedagogy or even natural ability but, rather self-discipline and, ultimately, culture.

This year at Somersfield under the leadership of Rosanna Luzarraga, our new Chair in Mathematics, we are working actively to rationalize our programming and to ramp up our pedagogy in mathematics from P5 to M5. Interestingly, this appears to be not simply a Somersfield concern, but a Bermudian one. In our conversations with other schools and with the Ministry of Education, we have been focusing less on content and more on attitude. How can we create a culture of success? How can we help students to see that hard work and application is not boring but actually interesting and rewarding? How can we get them to see homework not as something that keeps them from sailing or soccer but rather something that can help them to establish a work ethic and a set of skills to aid them in their future endeavours? How can we make our students understand that, just as they know that they have to spend hours practicing tennis or rugby or dance or the saxophone in order to be proficient, the same is true in mathematics, or reading, or modern languages? I said earlier that teaching and learning is a partnership. But it is not just between teacher and student. It is a three-way commitment, with parents playing a crucial role, to build a culture of learning that becomes a norm for all of our children.

Who puts the "smart" in Smart Boards?

As I was droning on in a meeting the other day about what we are doing in technology, one parent stopped me and said: “I don’t want to appear uninformed, but what are these “smart” boards that you keep talking about?”
It was a great question, and the kind of one that educators need to hear more often. We tend to get so immersed in our own world of jargon that we sometimes forget to stop and make sure that our intended audience knows what on earth we are talking about!
SMART Boards (actually a brand name that has become synonymous with the product - like we used to always say “xerox machine”) are interactive digital whiteboards that work in concert with the teacher’s computer to run simulations, store written discussions, and provide a myriad of hands-on learning experiences for students. Over the past year, with the support of a local reinsurance company and our PTA, we have installed eleven of these electronic marvels in our P5/6 and MYP classrooms.

But, does the addition of these kinds of resources guarantee a better educational experience? The answer is, “not necessarily.” As one of our teachers has said: “it’s not about technology, it’s about learning.” This should be the mantra of every classroom in every school. There is no point in investing in interactive digital “smart” boards or LCD projectors if they are only going to be used as 21st century blackboards and overheads. That is not good enough. What needs to be happening, has to begin with our academic vision of the school. We have to ask the questions: “How can we enhance student learning and academic performance with the aid of technology? What could we do more effectively with technological support than we could do without it?” and, “How do we make students and teachers see the available technology not as a gimmick, but rather as a stepping-stone to take learning to the next level?”
We have recently seen the provision of teacher and student workstations in every classroom in our school; the installation of LCD projectors in most rooms; the beginnings of an interactive digital board initiative; and, with the support of our corporate partners at KPMG we have been able to establish two mobile computer lab “laptop carts” to provide greater flexibility to teachers.
However, the point of all this innovation is not to simply “decorate” the school with technology, but rather to continue to use it to make us a better school. Many schools pride themselves on having a smart board in every room, or requiring every family to buy their child a laptop. They might make for great marketing, but ineffective use of those resources – while good visual p.r. when prospective parents or visitors glance in the class – can impede rather than enhance the learning process. There is no practical reason for stretching limited technological resources to ensure that every teacher in every class has her or his students sitting at a keyboard. What makes more sense is to focus our resources where they will have the greatest impact. In the best schools, students excel in the use of technology because teachers who “get it” are given the support and the infrastructure they need to push forward the frontiers of learning. It would appear to be far more effective to guarantee that every student has at least one exceptional on-going experience with technology in her or his timetable rather that to try to provide a series of mediocre ones.

Teaching and learning is the ultimate interactive experience. Whether or not it involves the use of technology is far less important than the extent to which it engages, challenges, and meets the needs of our kids.

That is why, as much as we have invested in technology in our classrooms, our real priority is to continue to staff them with “state of the art” teachers. They’re the “smart” in smart boards!

Back to School

Summer always seemed so much longer when I was a child. The days were endless, the weeks seemed to stretch out forever and I really cannot remember a time that wasn’t sunny!
I have always loved summer.

This July my family took a few weeks away from our home in Bermuda to spend at our cottage on Georgian Bay. Between swimming and sunning and climbing rocks with the boys, I spent a good deal of my time rebuilding a major section of our docks. The job involved prying up old planks, hauling rocks and timber, and sawing and levelling and shimming to give at the least the illusion of being square. But, as with every job like this, most of all, I hammered.

I have to admit, there is something intrinsically satisfying about pounding nails. Unlike people, they generally go where they are needed, stay where they are put and, even when they get a bit rusty, continue to do the job that you ask them to!
Definitely good for the soul!

Aside from this therapeutic hammering, I was faced with an interesting engineering challenge of tearing out an aging infrastructure that had been in place since the cottage was built in 1945 and starting from scratch with a new design, updated materials, and a clean slate. That is not to say that I didn’t have various generations of family critics who lamented the changes and ached for the “good old days” of stepping through rotten boards or tripping on uneven joints. But even they appreciated the eventual outcome which was a blend of the old and the new and provided the opportunity to stand on what was firm and had stood the test of time while appreciating the value of change and growth.

Schools are a bit like my dock. Once in a while you have to tear things out and start over, but for the most part, each school year sees a new and unique blend of the traditional and the innovative, skilled experience and energetic learning on the job and the amazing dynamic that is created when differing approaches combine to create a wonderful learning experience for each child and young adult.

This September was my first back in a school in over 10 years. As the hot and humid days of August wound down, things cranked up in every corner of the campus. Repairs and renovations which had proceeded at a languid pace for the previous month, quickly ramped up with the iminent arrival back of staff and students. Garbage was carted away, floors were stripped and refinished, lawns and fields were mown, the gardens tended and bit by bit the place began to shine in anticipation of the year to come. Late in the month, the faculty began to trickle back in. A hour or two here, a morning there, full days for others and soon the place was humming with the sound of productive effort in each and every classroom.

Schools like to pretend that that first week back of professional activity days and meetings are what starts the school year off on the right foot. But as I stood up at our opening staff meeting and pontificated on my lofty goals for the year, I knew that I was following, not leading, the pack. Ideas had already been shooting around - by email, over drinks on the beach, and even through Facebook - and most of the staff arrived back that Monday morning prepared to hit the ground running. My real role was to keep myself and my leadership team out of the way!

Oh, I held a staff breakfast, and hosted afterschool drinks at our house, but for the most part I became a voyeur as the real work of preparing for our students got underway. The end of the week saw a few teasers for what was to come - an open house for the 3 year olds; a first half-day for the P1s; and a stream of parents and kids parading through to purchase uniforms, check on first day details, and generally try to get a glimpse of their new teachers and classrooms.

Then came Tuesday, the day after Labour Day, when the floodgates openned and a sea of shining faces streamed in. The energy level was palpable; the excitement - electric! Teachers and students alike were genuinely thrilled to see one another after two long months apart.

And so it begins. You know, I have always loved summer - but this year I remembered that I love September even more!

Going Public

I had it all wrong. 

Last spring we spent considerable time and effort speaking with kids about the very public nature of "private" communication on the internet. In two assemblies and a parent session, we had outside resource people come in and explain to our students how exposed they really were in their emails, texting, tweets, and especially on Facebook.

After one such session I had the opportunity to gab with a group of P5/6s about cyber bullying, stalkers, and generally the inherent risks in hanging out all of their personal information on  the web for just about anyone to see. What they were just beginning to grasp was that the actual audience for their comments was far broader than their intended one. Facebook "friends" quite regularly cut and paste or forward personal comments to people who were never intended to read them. And, once they are hung out there on the line for everyone to read, it is virtually (and physically!) impossible to reel them back in.

After much discussion and sharing of experiences, I began to feel like the kids were getting it and that in some small way, maybe we were helping them to self-edit what they were willing to share with the world. But...

I had it all wrong.

This summer I realized that we were directing our efforts at the wrong target (or rather at only one of our at-risk groups). As the beginning of the school year approached, I was intrigued by the increase in on-line traffic from staff members (both friends and friends of friends) publicly commenting on their lack of interest in going back to school. Sandwiched in between the expected "life would be great if we didn't have to work for him" comments were some pretty fundamental (and discouraging) observations like - "only 180 teaching days until next summer" - or "this year I plan to coast and do as little work as possible" and "I'm putting off going back in until the last possible minute". In addition there were some pretty negative remarks from individuals about their teaching colleagues and the quality of their schools.

People have always said this stuff, but when I was a young teacher, it was shared over a couple of beers in  the backyard or at the local pub. Everyone took the opportunity to vent, critique, and proclaim their incredibly brilliant (and invariably simplistic) solutions to the complex issues around the running of their respective schools. It was a healthy letting off of steam, a little bit of big-mouthed posturing, and mostly harmless. If a negative comment about a colleague did get back to her or him it could usually be defused by a claim that the author had been misquoted, misunderstood, or just plain drunk! The fact is that the only "permanent" record of these observations was usually an embarrassing half-memory and a bit of a headache.

No more. In our age of instant messaging, our rants to our friends have become the stuff of public record. Comments permanently recorded on the web arrive there without context, and without the tone of voice, or note of exasperation or raised eyebrow that would cause a personal audience to take it with a grain of salt and pretty quickly forget about it.

As adults, we should know better and as professional educators, we should do better. Every teacher and administrator receives the occasional sarcastic (and sometimes venomous) email from a parent about some imagined injustice done to their daughter or son. In our instant age, we all know how this happens. A person gets ginned up (or perhaps "rummed" up in Bermuda) bangs something out and sends it. The content and language are such that they would never use over the phone or in person. But in an email or in a Facebook comment they can make the most outlandish remarks without fear of interruption or correction. Their spin on things becomes a part of the permanent cyber record and no matter how many subsequent conversations or comments lower the temperature of the exchange, the original comment remains, white hot, frozen in time and cyberspace.

Having suffered from these abuses of electronic communication we should, and must, do better to prevent ourselves from committing them as well. In discussion about just such a case with a colleague this week it was clear to me that the fact that something that had been posted as a very personal comment about a peer, had landed on my desk, was quite a shocking revelation to the author. I was definitely not part of the intended audience. The ripple effects of this incident remain to be seen - hopefully they will dissipate as quickly as hurricane Bill - but perhaps, if we're lucky, the lesson learned will have much more permanence. 

Everybody talks about the weather...

I always thought that it was a Canadian thing. Before discussing politics, religion, or even hockey - it was obligatory to talk about the weather. Canadians pride themselves on suffering through every extreme of climate - even those of us who lived in relatively temperate Toronto - were able to ascribe to the great national pioneer myth of "roughing it in the bush" (apologies to Suzanna Moodie!). The greatest thing about complaining about the weather was not its actual effects but, rather, speculating on how bad it was going to get. As soon as the first flakes started to fall there were moans about upcoming driving hassles, expected delays in ploughing streets, anticipated flight cancellations and, of course, shoveling! 

Spring meant flooding; summer blisteringly hot and humid days (unless we were able to gripe about the unseasonably cool weather - "will summer ever arrive?"); and, fall - this good weather can't last! The only time that you could hear your friends speak positively about the weather was when they were reflecting on last year - "what a great summer that was!" or "last year I never even took my snowblower out of the garage" or "why can't we have another spring like that one!?"

Having said that, weather in Canada is all pervasive and unpredictable. During the 2002 Winter Olympics - I watched the quarter finals of the men's hockey in 20C weather on a pub patio in Toronto; the semis in a minus six chill in Winnipeg two days later; and the finals two days after that insulated by layers of down and bottles of wine in a minus 35C deep freeze in Calgary. Exigencies of weather are part of time honoured regional bragging rights.

Fast forward - winter 2008-2009 - landing in Bermuda where the forecast tended to be: high 20C; low 18C. We celebrated through a beautiful spring and early summer of hot days and warm nights and returned to Canada for our holidays not really caring about what weather we found there because we knew that we would return home to hot and sunny beach days in early August.

Then, Bill came to town. Not Bill Clinton (who has just escaped the island as I write) but rather hurricane Bill - charging up from the eastern Caribbean, determined to wreak havoc on our little corner of paradise. It was then that I learned a great cultural life lesson - obsession with the weather is a human, not just Canadian, preoccupation. All normal conversation ground to a halt. Commerce was focused on stocking up for the onslaught. Public broadcasting was dedicated to reiterating lists of "to dos" (ratchet down the shutters; flip the patio furniture; fill the bathtub; gas up your car; take cash out of the ATMs before they crashed; stock up with non-perishables; buy batteries, candles, etc.) At school everyone had the weather website bookmarked for hourly checks on stats that were only updated eight times a day. In the meantime the conversations swirled around the last great hurricane - Fabian (unfortunately I seemed to be the only one who remembered him as a singer!). Fabian devastated Bermuda. He ripped off roofs, blew in windows, and knocked out power for upwards of three weeks. For the "veterans", Bill was "Fabian redux". They regaled us with the horrors of what lay in store for us. But, even as we battened down our hatches and topped up our tubs it began to become clear that this storm might not live up to his "Billing".  As he marched closer, he seemed to lose interest and, even though the weather channels kept trying to hype his sagging potential, it began to appear that we weren't going to be able to market too many of the "I survived Bill" t-shirts that I had been silk-screening in the basement.

I am writing this about 10 hours before Bill is scheduled to hit his Bermuda peak. We looked over the south shore earlier this afternoon and saw the surf pounding in, but for us in north Devonshire - it would appear that we suffered through more substantial winter storms in February than we will be facing overnight tonight. Having said that, this has been a good dry run for us. We have learned how to work the shutters; stocked up on essentials; and have taken the appropriate precautions with water, gas and power. I got to go through the paces at school and, was struck at the parallels to our experiences with the great Montreal ice storm in January 1998.

Next week I am looking forward to the post mortems. The "woulda, coulda, shoulda" stuff that always comes after events such as this. The old timers will tell me how lucky we were, the newcomers will have their own personal war story to use in years to come, and for me, I will listen to the speculation, the comparisons, and the complaints about the weather and feel completely at home!

The World Has Changed: Part 2

Okay, now it is six months later (read the previous post if you have no idea what I am talking about!). I have had a chance to continue to reflect on what we are all about in education and, although the "honeymoon is over" (for both Obama and me!) there is no question that the message that I heard on that breezy January day still resonates in the hot and humid dog days of summer. This is what I told our graduates last week:

The world has changed, and we must change with it. (Barack Obama, 2009)

The world is changing around us. But even with all of the economic upheavals and uncertainties of the past year, we still live in world of privilege. Globally, every member of our Somersfield community belongs to the tiny percentage of the world’s population that is well clothed, housed, and fed. We enjoy fresh water, some weeks more than others, clean air, and a temperate and embracing climate. A higher proportion of Bermudians have internet connections than anywhere else in the world and we have access to about 100 more television channels than anyone could possibly want to watch

Our Montessori children have the advantage of a strong and child-centered programme with a proven track record for preparing them for higher learning. Every student in our Middle School – from M1 to M5 is already a member of the educated elite, having had more schooling than ninety percent of the rest of the planet! We truly live in a world of privilege.

This has been a year of celebration and reflection as we look back on 400 years of Bermuda's history. But has also been a time for looking forward to a somewhat fluid and uncertain future. What might that future hold for our students? How can they build on that privileged beginning that has been given them by their parents, extended family, teachers and school?

They will live in a world where education makes all of the difference – families and teachers can provide them with opportunities but it is up to them to make the most of them.

They will live in a world where character counts. Where honesty and integrity and compassion are not old fashioned values – they are the critically important ones for future success. They are privileged to have had role models at home and at school to demonstrate how true this is. It is now their responsibility to live up to those examples.

They will live in a world that is interdependent. A world where every citizen must do her or his part for social justice, to improve the environment, to take part in the political process and to be a good friend and neighbour. It is their responsibility to take an active role in the life of their community – and not just be a bystander.

Finally, they will live in a world that is going to be radically different from the one that their grandparents, parents, teachers and I grew up in. A world where doing the same old thing in the same old way just isn’t going to cut it anymore. Teachers and parents have tried to prepare our students to face challenges that we can’t even imagine using ideas and technologies that haven’t even been thought of yet.

It will be their responsibility to take a leadership role in that world.

That is the responsibility of privilege.

The World Has Changed: Part 1

Early on, when we first arrived in Bermuda, I spent some time reflecting on "why here?" "why now?". I had built a career over the last ten years of criss-crossing the country, dropping pearls of wisdom, and then heading back to the local Maple Leaf Lounge before the dust had settled.
Planting my feet firmly on "the rock", I took some time to think about what clarion call had brought me back to my roots with kids, and families and dedicated front-line educators. Interestingly, it took events not in Canada or Bermuda to help to clarify things for me, but something quite unexpected. Here is what I recalled and reflected to my "new" community at the end of that first month:

One January, when I was in elementary school, we were marched down to the common room to watch history being made. On a black and white screen, with a shaky signal coming in over rabbit ears, a school full of Canadian school children watched John F. Kennedy take the oath of office to become the 35th President of the United States. Even then we knew that something had changed. His inaugural address was a call to action not just to Americans, but to a generation. The next decade saw great strides forward in democratic reform, tackling poverty, upholding civil rights, and even the “conquering” of outer space. Kennedy’s call to service was embodied in the line: “ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.”

Forty-eight years later, I once again sat in a common room full of students, a thousand miles and a world away from where I grew up. Once again I watched a black and white image, brought in by online streaming, but still with rabbit ears and once again I knew, as did everyone in the room, that something had changed.

The audience of Somersfield students and staff, a wonderful blend of races, nationalities and faiths, sat in respectful silence, punctuated from time to time by spontaneous applause, to listen to the words of the 44th President of the United States, Barack Obama. He did not disappoint. Like my experience at the beginning of the 1960s, our students heard a new call to action.
Two parts of his address in particular resonated with me. The first:

The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea, passed from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free, and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness…for we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness.

I don’t need to tell you that at Somersfield this statement embodies the heart of who we are. In our Core Values, in our Montessori and Middle School classrooms, on our playgrounds and in our day to day lives, we practice peace and we strive to help our students to understand not only their own cultures and personal histories, but to be open to the perspectives, values and traditions of other individuals, their families and communities. We honor the strength and ourage to stand for truth and we encourage our students to act with integrity and honesty; with a strong sense of fairness and justice; and, to continually show respect for the dignity of each and every member of our school community and beyond.

The second was also aimed right at us:

To those nations like ours that enjoy relative plenty, we say that we can no longer afford indifference to suffering outside our borders; nor can we consume the world’s resources without regard to effect. For the world has changed, and we must change with it.

At Somersfield, we believe that our students should have a personal commitment to service and act to make a positive difference to the lives of others and to the environment. Our challenge is to continue to help our students to maintain that balance between personal endeavour and accomplishment; and social responsibility and a sense of community. Because, as we all know, Barack Obama’s words and our core values and commitments make for ringing oratory and great reading, but they can sometimes get lost in the pressures and priorities of our day to day lives. It is easy to espouse values, but it is much more difficult to embrace and live them.

Like Kennedy, Obama has thrown down the gauntlet. We all know what we need to do, now it is time to role up our sleeves and make it happen. In education, we often talk about “teachable moments”. They take place when something unexpected happens that engages and inspires our students to think about things in a totally different way. For that room full of kids and their
teachers, for our families, and for our society, this is that ultimate teachable moment. It is our challenge to take that call to action and help our children internalize it as their mission as well. That will be our goal as a school, and hopefully of our community.

The world has changed, and we must change with it.