Why do students hate school, but love learning?

A few weeks ago my wife and I had some friends over for dinner.  Just before they left we we got to talking about blogs and I mentioned, somewhat casually, that I have a blog that I post to about once a week or so.  At that point my wife turned and looked at me like I was a stranger she had never seen before and then said, rather emphatically, "No you don't."  You see I have never been particularly fond of or good at writing (as many of my posts reveal).  But, for the past year or so I have been a regular blogger.  What's more, it is one of the more enjoyable things that I do in my work.  This didn't make sense to my wife and has only recently started to make sense to me.  

In high school, and to some extent in college, I cringed any time a teacher mentioned an essay, research project, or even Haiku (I still wince at writing reports, memos, and evaluations).  I hated writing.  I was forced to do it, couldn't write about anything other than what the teacher wanted, and no one other than my teacher (who I didn't really care about anyway) was going to read it.  So, I've always been a little intrigued by the fact that writing for a blog is something that I do willingly.  Last night I got some answers that shed some light on this split personality I've developed.   

I listened to a talk by Clay Shirky ("Where do people find the time?"--for part 2 of the talk click here), a professor of new media at NYU, where he describes what he calls an "architecture of participation."  This architecture consists of three factors:  an ability for individuals to (1) consume, (2) produce, and (3) share all of which Shirky argues are critical for meaningful participation.  The more I listened I started to realize that my blog has allowed me to do all three of those things and I started to believe what Shirky was saying.  My blogging is different from the academic writing asked of me in school in very important and fundamental ways.  First, when I blog I get to write about what I am interested in and it isn't restricted to a particular discipline.  I am, at heart, an educator so many of my posts center there.  I've also written about politics, language, design, and health care. . .things I know little about, but am interested in.  Blogging also allows me to produce my own digital footprint.  I enjoy creating a post that links to books I've read, talks I've listened to, and other blogs.  It's also gratifying to google a term like "deep practice" and see one of my postings come up in the search.  I feel like I've created something that matters.  Lastly, because blogs are public I know that what I'm writing may actually be read by someone (I recognize that may not be true, but the theoretical idea sounds good to me).  That, incidentally, makes me care a lot more about what I write about and how I write it.

This all leaves me wondering how we can make school a little more like blogging.  What if schools were more thoughtful about creating an architecture of participation that would support the type of learning we hope happens in our classrooms?  How would assignments be structured differently?  How would the teachers role in the classroom change?  How would relationships and roles among peers look?  

The idealist in me wants to believe this would make a difference and that students would start learning in school in the same ways we see them learning once they leave our classrooms and campuses.  Am I being naive?    

Deep Practice for Teachers or. . . what we can learn from "Big Brown"

I've been thinking a great deal about how to train people to do things as of late.  And, as a teaching drop-out (I left public education after only a year of teaching), my thoughts have turned to my own teacher preparation experiences and how well they equipped me to be in a real classroom. 

 In the middle of all of this musing I came across a November 2007 Fortune magazine article  ("The Making of a UPS Driver"), that describes how UPS has adapted its training programs to address the problems of declining performance and high turnover among new drivers (which, by the way, is a job that is much more physically demanding and technical than I ever realized).  These two problems seemed very similar to those facing education and I wondered what we might be able to learn from UPS.  

The most interesting part of the article was the description of the UPS training center in Landover, Maryland.  Everything about the center seems to have been designed with learning and deep practice in mind.  I wonder how different our campus buildings would look if this were the case, particularly those classrooms where teacher education courses are taught.  The UPS training center is equipped with full-size "truck classrooms," mini-neighborhoods, and a driving course.  This all makes sense because aspiring drivers can practice being UPS drivers in the very same conditions that they'll be working in when they leave the training center and are delivering my Christmas presents and your office supplies.  Additionally, UPS gathers as much data about driver performance in these simulations as possible and then uses that data (e.g. videotape footage of truck exits, force sensor readings to measure impact on joints, etc.) to show learners how well they are doing and where they can improve.  They also put new drivers through simulations where they are forced to adapt to challenges and problems that they are almost certain to encounter (my favorite part of the article might been the description of the "fall simulator").

So, what can we learn from UPS that could be applied to training teachers?  First, where we train them is important.  A random building assigned by the campus scheduling office won't do.  We need rooms that have been designed as "teaching labs" that look like the classrooms where our teachers will teach, and that facilitate data gathering on teacher performance (in house video equipment comes to mind immediately, but someone more creative than me could think of what else this might mean).  Additionally, we need to think through the "trouble spots" that teachers are going to encounter (an angry parent, belligerent students, a faculty meeting gone awry, etc.), build these sorts of simulations or role-plays into the instruction, and then provide lots of opportunities for practice and feedback.

What I'm describing here is more than a semester of student teaching.  Although a nice capstone (potentially), more often than not it looks a little like throwing a child in the deep end without a life jacket and then checking on them every three weeks or so and providing a one page written evaluation of how well they kept their head above water.  What I'm suggesting are deep practice experiences that closely simulate real teaching and that provide near-instant feedback about how the teacher has performed, so that they can improve on the spot.  Data or feedback that help learners see how they are performing and make comparisons to expert performances and also see their own progression would be incredibly valuable (see Andy Gibbon's discussion of "contrast" and "trace" in this very interesting paper).   

Given the growing pressure to improve the educational system and ever loudening cries for better teachers, some kind of change is going to be necessary.  Something like a teaching lab would be an interesting thing to explore.  Additionally, as a concluding aside, universities might structure their faculty support centers (on my campus, the Faculty Center and Center for Teaching and Learning) in a way that these opportunities for deep practice are provided to faculty members.  

If you want something else to read along the lines of deep practice and training, check out this article from Play magazine on a backwoods Russian tennis academy that has produced more top players than nearly anywhere else in the world.

What are our institutions learning?

Higher education, by definition, is about learning. Students attend lectures, work on group projects, and write exams. Faculty members deliver instruction and conduct research. And, attending professional conferences to stay abreast of developments is standard practice. All of these behaviors are, in theory, intended to facilitate learning. I wonder, however, what and how our institutions are learning. Ironically, in our efforts to educate students we seem to occasionally neglect our own collective education. There was a time when doing things the same way year after year probably didn't pose a significant problem for universities and colleges. But, to stay relevant it will be critical that institutions find ways to drive their organizational learning.

Institutions that learn don't need to reinvent the wheel every year--there are some educational practices that have worked for hundreds of years and those things shouldn't be meddled with--but, there are some things that I would like to see happen a little more often in higher education.

Learning from other successful organizations and industries. Too often we make excuses for our failings with the refrain "Education is just too different; what works in business, healthcare, government, etc. (you can fill in the blank) just won't work for us." While education is a unique setting, closing our eyes and ignoring best practices from outside our field will ensure that we stagnate. One excellent example of an organization that has increased quality while driving down costs is Intermountain Healthcare (IHC). IHC uses data to trigger reminders to physicians and nurses of "care guidelines" that have been shown to make a difference in patient care. Data also drives the decision-making at IHC hospitals and clinics. The result? Better healthcare and lower costs for patients and insurance companies (interestingly enough, at times this practice has decreased revenue for IHC). For a slightly more abstract discussion of learning from other settings, see this TED talk by biomimicry expert Janine on what designers can learn from nature.

Learning from disasters and failures. This article describes a study performed on the mining industry and whether or not mining professionals learn from fatal mine accidents. Two very interesting recommendations are made by the researcher (Peter Madsen) that could be applied to education: 1) organizations should seek to learn more from minor accidents/failures, creating a culture of continual improvement and 2) investigations into organizational failures should focus more on determining what went wrong and less on scapegoating or finger pointing. Imagine how much more could be learned from our institutional failures if we were more concerned with improving and stopped trying to find someone to blame. Essentially, these practices help organizations adopt the "growth mindset" described by Lois Dweck in Mindset.

Learning from the stories and lives of those within our institutions. There is likely a great deal of wisdom and intellectual capital in places we wouldn't normally look (e.g. students and staff members). On most campuses the only members of the institution with a seat at the decision-making table are faculty members and high-level administrators (who some might argue have the most narrow and biased perspective). It would be interesting to explore ways of involving those on the margins of the academy in meaningful ways, particularly in telling stories about their experiences on our campuses. A qualitative analysis of those stories might yield some interesting lessons for organizations. See "Unexpected Philosophers" and/or The Philosopher Kings for an example of what I'm talking about.

My sense is that higher education is going to need to adapt and change over the next few years. To do that we'll need to be much more vigilant in trying to drive organizational learning than we have in the past.

President Obama's Address to Students

President Obama will be delivering an address to young students on Tuesday, September 8th.  According to the White House press release his remarks are intended to stress the "importance of students' taking responsibility for their education, challenging them to set goals and do everything they can to succeed."  The White House has encouraged educators to view the address with students and provided resources that teachers can use to engage their students in a meaningful dialogue about the President's remarks.  

Regardless of what political motives might be involved here (I, personally, doubt that there are any other than to send a message that education is critical to the wellbeing of our country), this seems like a useful thing for students and teachers to be a part of.  Some parents and conservatives have objected to schools participating saying that they don't want students "forced" to listen to the speech and that it will eat up "precious" class time. 

 I think it would be a mistake for any parent or teacher to keep students from hearing the address for a number of reasons:

1.  The message is an important one (regardless of who the messenger is).  Whether you agree with Obama's policies and political leanings or not, the fact is that education is an integral part of the success of our nation.  A message intended to excite students about learning and help them see its value is one we want them to hear.  And, the star power of a president (especially this one) is a rhetorical tool that can help.  If the White House has said that this is not a political speech and intended only to underscore the importance of education, let's trust them until we know otherwise.  The speech will be available online beginning Monday for parents and educators to review.  If at that point it becomes apparent that the Obama camp was lying and that the speech is filled with propaganda (which would be incredibly stupid for them to try and pull off), that would be the appropriate time to decide that your student or class will not view the address.  

2.  Blindly refusing to allow your child to listen to the address sends a dangerous message.  Children watch what adults do and make decisions about what is "normal" behavior based on these observations.  When a child hears mom say, "I don't agree with Obama's politics, so you aren't listening to what he has to say" they infer that such behavior (i.e. that when you disagree with someone you should refuse to listen to anything and everything they have to say) is the norm.  I'm not arguing that we should accept all of the current administrations policies.  What I am arguing for is openmindedness and dialogue.  If you disagree with Obama (or even things he says in the address), have a conversation with your student/child about those things and what you and they think about it.  Insulating them from differing viewpoints won't serve them in the long run.

3.  Schools are meant to be democratic spaces.  Historically, educational institutions were intended to prepare young people to be engaged citizens, capable of dialogue, productivity, and service to the community.  Only recently (relatively) did public schools become focused on preparing students for college or university study and/or the workforce.  Schools serve a democratic function and, accordingly, should model for students what a democratic society looks and feels like (I could blog about the failings of modern school systems in this realm for days, but I'll end here).  Participating in a presidential address and then discussing its implications presents a marvelous opportunity to involve students in the democratic process.  Too often we give students the impression that being in a democracy means going to the polls. There is a lot of preparatory work (e.g. listening to the views of politicians) that we don't ever mention.  Furthermore, as mentioned above, our schools should provide opportunities for meaningful dialogue about political issues and prepare students to become part of the engaged citizenry when they leave our institutions.

For the record, I am independent and disagree with plenty of the democratic parties policies.  However, if my daughter were in school (we're about 5 years away), I would want her hearing what the president has to say.  His message is a good one and it would give me something to talk to her about that's a little more important than whatever reality TV show we watched on tv last night.