One of my favorite blogs is maintained by Daniel Coyle a former contributing editor of Outside magazine and now a full-time writer. A recent post explored the power of play in developing skill and left me wondering why we don't see more "play" in academics.
Coyle argues that the very best athletes get to be that way, in part, because they spent a fair amount of time "goofing off" in fairly unstructured environments. That's not to say that elite athletes don't at some point adopt a very structured and rigorous training regimen. But, it seems that the path to skill started on playgrounds (for many NBA players), empty swimming pools (skate pros), and dusty streets (Ronaldinho & other South American soccer stars) in a number of cases. The rationale is that these unique practice environments give young athletes a chance to be creative, invent their own games, get lots of reps, and develop a passion for their skill or game. This new-age coaching mindset doesn't always sit well with "veterans" because it can mean chaos, loss of control, and a lack of the all-important "drill."
This doesn't seem altogether different from the view we take of education. In most schools structure seems to be king--highly defined curricula, students in desks, and quiet individual work. While pure logistics dictate much of this structure out of necessity, I wonder how learning would be impacted if students were engaged in "academic play" a little more often.
In A Whole New Mind, Daniel Pink describes how this concept of play is taking hold in successful businesses (e.g. Google--they encourage employees to spend 15% of their time working on whatever personal projects they find interesting and loosely connected to Google's mission), the military, and medical training. And, U.S. Soccer just hired former Men's National Team captain Claudio Reyna to try and infuse "play" into the training of youth soccer players in the U.S.
So, what would "academic play" look like? Would it even work in a school or classroom setting where, at best, only half of the learners are motivated to learn?
William Kamkamba's story is not new (he started his work in 2002 and started getting heavier press coverage in 2008), but I heard it for the first time this week. Aside from being very moving, there seem to be some lessons here for educators and the way we engage students in good learning. One of the things that impressed me with William's story was the fact that he seemed to be doing the sort of learning we all hope students will do, but it happened outside the formal confines of a school or university and with no real external support. As I write this, it occurs to me that good learning like this might result because of those factors (i.e. the best type of learning happens outside of school).
So, my first question is whether it is realistic to expect learning like this to occur within a formal setting. The cynic in me wants to say no, but the pragmatist part of me that enjoys having a roof to sleep under, food to eat, the possibility of providing for my daughther make me want to say "yes, we can do it." So, here are some key principles I see at work in William's story that seem to be instructive for instructional designers, teachers, and anyone that cares about learning.
1. Help the learner identify a real problem or opportunity. William's story started because he saw an opportunity (the winds in Malawi) and wanted to find a way to leverage that opportunity. Because it was a learning opportunity that he had identified and that he cared about personally, he was willing to engage in the hard work of deep learning. William's learning was also motivated by a humanitarian desire to help people in his village, which seems to be important in some way.
2. Allow the learning to be self-directed. William didn't have a curriculum or syllabus he was following. He identified gaps in his knowledge--things he needed to know in order to solve the problem at hand (and related sub-problems that likely emerged along the way)--and then garnered resources to help him learn what he needed to know. Not only does this sort of experience shift the responsibility for learning onto the learner, but it also prepares them to engage in meaningful learning once they leave an institution and don't have a formal system nudging them along the path.
3. Forum for sharing/testing ideas. William's learning was incredibly public. If the windmill didn't work, looked stupid, or in any other way failed to meet expectations he was likely to hear about it from those in his village. Consequently, he was more motivated to really understand the principles of windmill design, electricity, etc. and to produce something that wouldn't get laughed at or mocked. Additionally, because the learning was public he was likely receiving feedback all along the way regarding how to improve his work. That combination of experience and feedback led to much better learning than would have otherwise resulted.
4. Connections to a number of disciplines. While much of what William was learning was focused in a physical science or technology domain, he likely had to learn things from other fields--writing skills, oral communication skills, business principles, etc.--in order to really make his windmill project a success. It was the sort of integrated general education experience that liberal arts folks dream of. The key was that he had selected a problem whose successful solution depended on a broad set of knowledge and skills.
5. A connection to future plans/goals. It's obvious from listening to William's story that he doesn't plan on stopping with a rough-looking windmill outside his family's Malawian farm. What he learned in these initial projects has raised new questions for him, provided access to new sources of learning, provided additional motivation, and helped him develop a vision of what he wants to do and become as he moves forward. This is in striking contrast to the term project or other course assignment that dies quickly once final grades are posted.
This sort of learning requires a paradigm shift for educators. They become designers, facilitators, mentors, and coaches rather than information disseminators and evaluators. So, for something like this to work it would take individuals that understand (1) what good learning looks like and (2) what sorts of mentoring leads to this learning.
We see these things at work in Capstone courses and in abundance in graduate school, but how can these principles be applied at the undergraduate level (or even within secondary and elementary education)? Could an entire education be built around capstone-esque learning like this?
Earlier this week I read an article about the challenge of engaging male students in a meaningful college experience. I saw the anti-intellectual attitude alluded to in this article displayed at the high school level when I was a teacher and coach, and I see it now in my work in higher education. It's not that male students aren't intelligent, don't work hard, or aren't prepared for college-level work. It's just that, in far too many cases, being a good learner and being a "man" are mistakenly viewed as being mutually exclusive. This false dichotomy leaves young men feeling like they have to choose one role or the other. And, at 18 years old being "cool" or "chill" generally wins out. This means that participating in class, being seen in the library, or having any sort of academic conversation outside of class is strictly taboo (Note: many will do "academic" things when no one is looking, but my experience has been that the best kind of learning is, at least part of the time, public and social).
Really, there are two related problems here: (1) Getting males to want to go to college, trade school, technical training, etc. and (2) Helping those that do go to take full advantage of the opportunity rather than doing enough to not kicked out, but without looking like they really care all that much. I realize that my mentioning these problems is not earth-shattering and that there are a lot of people thinking about the same thing. The shortcoming I see is in the way we go about trying to remedy these problems.
This made me wonder how we could package some of our basic messages about the value of education and deliver them in ways that would resonate with the students we are trying to reach, particularly male students. The Inside Higher Ed article I linked to above mentions a strategy employed by Morehouse College in Atlanta, Georgia wherein students are introduced to the concept of a "Morehouse Man" that embodies a set of core values that the institution believes are characteristic of the type of men they hope to graduate (Morehouse is an all-male institution). The intent is to help students see and believe that being a man includes being well-dressed, well-spoken, well-educated, etc. and that to become that sort of man a student needs to do certain things while they are in college. The question I would have is whether the audience they are intending to reach (those students that for whatever reason aren't living up to the ideals held out by the institution) really want to become a "Morehouse Man" or at least the image of a "Morehouse Man" that has been created by this messaging.
An example of this same sort of challenge is outlined in Made to Stick, by Chip and Dan Heath. In a nutshell, the state of Texas wanted to decrease the amount of litter on their highways. And, they knew which Texans were most likely to litter, so they targeted their campaign at "Bubba." Bubba represented the 18 - 35 year old male, pickup truck driving, country music listening demographic that seemed to be at the heart of the litter problem. The idea was to give the standard "don't litter" message using both language and messengers that "Bubba" would relate to. So, they brought in members of the Dallas Cowboys, Mike Scott of the Houston Astros, and Willie Nelson and the now well-known phrase "Don't mess with Texas" was born. These weren't just famous people, they were people that Bubba saw as real Texans, men that Bubba wanted to be like. The strategy worked and visible litter along Texas roadways had decreased 72% within five years.
So, the question am left with in all of this is who our Bubbas are and how we can package two old messages (education is valuable and education means doing things that lead to good learning) in new ways. Who would male students respond to and what could that person or group of people say that would make an 18 year-old male student want to be a scholar?
