The First-Year Experience: Shifting from a movement to a respected discipline

Earlier this week I attended the National Academic Advising Association (NACADA) Annual Conference in BYU looks and feels a lot like advising.  To be honest, I wasn't expecting much, largely because the professional development provided to advisors on my campus is pretty pedestrian and uninspiring.  I was pleasantly surprised to see that, on the whole, academic advising is really growing into its own as a viable discipline, as opposed to a marginalized movement that can be pushed to the periphery of higher education.
Salt Lake City, UT.  It's not a conference I normally attend because I'm not an academic advisor; however, it was only an hour away and a portion of my work at

During the conference, I attended a presentation by the National Resource Center for the First-Year Experience and Students in Transition where Mary Stuart Hunter, the Executive Director of the Center made a really interesting statement, which was that their center is working to move the First-Year Experience from "a movement to a discipline."  I couldn't agree more.  And, I think that FYE could learn from NACADA about how to navigate this process.  I say that because during the NACADA annual conference I saw some signs that academic advising is maturing into a real discipline.  And, if FYE is ever to become a real discipline, they will need to follow a similar path.

There were some important things I noticed about NACADA during the conference, and things that FYE will need to attend to if it is serious about becoming a respected and viable discipline:

1.  An attention to its history.  There were a number of sessions during the NACADA conference that focused on examining the history of academic advising and how the advising field has evolved over time.  In addition to being interesting, this historical focus is critical for a field in terms of documenting and learning from its past.  While veterans of FYE like John Gardner frequently discuss its history, it isn't part of the shared dialogue among practioners and scholars who are concerned with the first year.  And, I've never seen a conference presentation or extended dialogue around historical issues.  By examining its history in a scholarly and even empirical way, FYE could take great strides toward becoming a discipline by documenting how it has evolved and changed since the 1970s when it first emerged as a movement.  And, this historical glance would yield important insights related to the theory and practice of FYE (see #2 for more on that idea).

2.  A move toward a unified theory.  One of the hottest topics at NACADA this year was whether or not academic advising can or should attempt to articulate a comprehensive or unifying theory of advisement.  Part of the struggle is that there are a number of different theories than inform advising practice, from student development theory (e.g. Chickering and Reissor), to educational theory (there was a fascinating session from +Kurt Xyst on how Deweyan theories of learning might inform advising), to hermeneutic theories (think Heidegger).  So, naturally, there is some disagreement over what theories are more appropriate for the aims of academic advising.  I'm not sure that I believe that its necessary for a field to subscribe to a single theory and it doesn't seem realistic that advisors will ever come to any real agreement over this; however, the discussions and attempts to clarify the theoretical positions that should inform the field are critical.  For FYE, theory isn't absent; however, there seems to be a bit of theoretical orthodoxy around student development theories, such that there are very few other voices represented.  For FYE to become a discipline, it will need to invite practitioners and scholars from other theoretical backgrounds (e.g. education & the humanities) to the table and involve them in meaningful ways.  For example, what does learning theory have to offer in terms of structuring meaningful first-year experiences for learners?  What tensions might exist between student development theory and educational theory?  What other theoretical frameworks might be helpful to consider?  I don't hear or see people in FYE asking these kinds of questions, at least at the level where it is visible to others (e.g. at conferences, in publications, etc.).

3.  Lively disagreements and arguments.  There was a great deal of disagreement (albeit very civil) at the NACADA conference over issues of theory and philosophy.  That's a good thing and the sign of a maturing discipline.  But, it's something I don't see happening a great deal within FYE.  There are plenty of disagreements and arguments we participate in, but they are largely with those outside our movement.  One of the signs that we are becoming a viable discipline or field will be when we are starting to disagree with one another around critical issues (and they are likely to be associated with history and theory).  That seems a bit paradoxical, but it's those tensions, disagreements, and contrasting ideas that will move us forward and give us credibility as a healthy and thriving discipline.

4.  A member driven governing body.  NACADA is a membership organization, meaning that academic advisors have the option of becoming members.  That means paying annual membership dues, but also means that those who do are able to be involved in the organization in really meaningful ways.  It also means that there is an elected leadership that has a strong voice and influence in shaping and directing the field.  NACADA also has an executive office with a paid administrative staff who work with elected representatives.  This hybrid structure of elected volunteers and paid administrative staff helps to balance both continuity/stability with innovation and growth.  This, currently, might be one of the most glaring gaps in FYE.  The National Resource Center is a great resource to practitioners and scholars in FYE.  However, because it is made up entirely of an executive staff housed on a single campus, it is ultimately a pretty insulated body.  They do their best to form partnerships with other groups (like NACADA and NODA) and involve scholars on other campuses in producing publications, offering online courses, and organizing conferences.  However, if FYE is really to become a discipline, it needs to provide membership opportunities and everything that comes with that structure.  In fact, the previous three recommendations I've made aren't likely to be realized until a membership structure is in place.  I'm not suggesting that the National Resource Center should go away, rather that it should work to bring into existence a complimentary membership organization that it could support and guide into the future.

Ultimately, what FYE needs to work toward is becoming a community of practice, with its own history, philosophy, theory, discourse, and dialogue.  The progress it has made as a movement over the last 35 years, leave me very hopeful that the next 35 years can see it become a discipline.  And, if this is to happen, it is likely to happen around issues of history, theory, lively disagreement, and membership.

(Mis)Education and Experience: Two examples grounded in the work of John Dewey

Recently, I've been re-reading John Dewey's seminal work Experience and Education.  It's not an easy read (though it's short), but it's a must-read for anyone who believes that education is about more than transmitting information.  The core of Dewey's argument is that all genuine learning comes about through experience; however, not all experience is equally educative.  He differentiates between educative experience, which expands a learners opportunities for learning and growth in the future; and miseducative experience, which stops or distorts future growth and learning.

I came across two cases this week that are great examples of each of these categories of experience.

First, the miseducative experience from the German school system.  There are 4 million muslims living in Germany, which has led German government and school officials to look for ways to integrate German-Muslims into communities, while still respecting their religious beliefs.  The most recent case has centered on required swimming lessons in German schools and has received a fair amount of international media attention.  At the heart of the buzz is a German court's ruling that Muslim girls must take part in co-educational swimming lessons as part of their educational experience, but will be allowed to wear burqinis.  There are two issues associated with the case--modesty and male-female interactions.  The modesty issue has largely been addressed through allowing Muslim girls to wear burqinis.  However, the plaintiff in the case, a Muslim teenage girl and her parents, claim that requiring her to participate in swim classes with other young men runs counter to their religious beliefs and practices.

German schools clearly believe that swimming is a fundamental skill that all German students should master.  This seems sound and, at some level, the court's ruling makes sense.  If they were to grant exemptions to this requirement for particular students, they would be neglecting their obligation to educate all students.  However, this is faulty logic, and here's why.

The ultimate goal of educational experience is to facilitate and encourage future experience (see Dewey's definition of educative experience).  It's probably safe to assume that the basic swimming instruction German student's receive isn't enough to make them master swimmers.  Instead, it's purpose is to equip students with basic levels of competence and also encourage them to participate in recreational swimming outside of school.  It's a sound approach (and one educators apply in all sorts of other disciplines).  But, the German court's decision is likely to have the opposite effect.  By forcing Muslim girls to swim, they will ensure that these girls will swim for the few hours a week they are required (during the few months when they are in the class).  But, this forced participation is also likely to turn Muslim girls off to swimming in the future.  And, in that way, this will become a miseducative experience  because it is likely to inhibit these students' learning and growth as future swimmers.  In this case, the court has forgotten that the swimming lessons offered in schools are the means to an end.

Now, the educative experience from a pretty unlikely source--a grassroots movement to end street harassment toward women.  Essentially, +Emily May and the Hollaback movement she started invites women to use their smartphones to document, map, and share incidents of street harassment with a worldwide internet community.  It's a really clever idea that uses technology, social networks, and social pressure to fight back agains a pretty ugly trend.  And, it invites and empowers women to participate in an experience that meets both Dewey's requirements for educative experience.  First, it attends to the criterion of continuity because it positively impacts the future experience of both the women who participate as well as the men they are "hollabacking" at.  Women who share or read stories of fighting back against street harassment are likely to be more empowered and skilled in doing so in the future (which would then provide additional experiences and learning opportunities)
.  And, the men who they are responding to are likely to think twice before making similar comments in the future.  Second, Hollaback has provided meaningful opportunities for interaction through its platform because it allows women to share and hear one another's stories in ways that lead to learning.  So, in addition to Hollaback being termed a "movement," it might also be characterized as an educative experience.  From this standpoint, Hollaback is fulfilling the role of an educator to provide, design, order, or facilitate an experience that leads to long-term and meaningful growth.

My point here is that, when it comes to issues of learning and the types of experiences educators should provide, it's important to consider long-term outcomes and how educational experiences and environments can be designed to not only ensure that learners "do what they're supposed to" in the short term (the German example), but that the experience we've provided has the potential to lead to additional learning and growth in the future.

Legitimate Peripheral Participation: A new lens for viewing the first year of higher education

At the outset, let me say that I'm a theoretical and philosophical nerd.  I like to read about theory and educational philosophies because they're just plain interesting and they lead me to see educational experiences differently, which I enjoy.  That said, my strong stance is that, without a theoretical foundation, those who design and order educational experiences (whether that is in a classroom, a home, a playing field, or music hall) aren't nearly as intentional and impactful as they can be when they are operating from a clear set of theoretical or philosophical principles.  Steve Yanchar, a faculty member in the Department of Instructional Psychology and Technology at BYU, has written very eloquently and persuasively about this idea here.

So, with that roundabout disclaimer for any theory-averse readers, here goes.

One of the most interesting theoretical frameworks for describing and understanding learning that I've come across is Jean Lave and Etienne Wenger's notion of Legitimate Peripheral Participation (LPP).  To really understand the theory, you'll need to read their book.  But, for the sake of this post and your time, here are the main ideas.

• Learning isn't merely knowledge or skill acquisition; rather, learning is the process of becoming increasingly skilled in the practices and discourses of a particular community of practice.  This means that "learning" is situated in particular contexts, activities, and social groups.  For example, learning to be a nurse isn't just understanding what to call particular body parts or how to give an injection (though this knowledge and skill is part of the process).  Instead, learning to be a nurse involves learning to think, act, and talk like expert nurses do.  Ultimately, it is a way of being that subsumes a whole constellation of knowledge, skill, and values.  So, learning is the process of becoming like the experts or "old-timers" that are part of an already existing community.
• In order to learn or become in these ways, a novice or newcomer needs to have access to the practices of the community.  So, that means being around old-timers, hearing the stories they tell, the way they describe problems, and seeing the way they do their work (whether that's making hamburgers at McDonald's, working on stopped up toilets, or writing academic articles).
• Learners also need opportunities to participate in legitimate and peripheral activities within the community and with other community members.  Lave and Wenger use the example of apprentice Vai and Gola Tailors in West Africa, who learn to be master tailors, first by hemming cuffs and attaching buttons to already finished articles.  From there they move on to increasingly complex tasks, all of which are integral to the overall process of tailoring an entire piece of clothing.  By participating in these practices, they don't just learn how to tailor, but learn what it means to be a tailor, with all of the complexities that come with that craft.  All three principles (participation, legitimacy, and peripherality) are key here because if any of these conditions isn't met, learning isn't likely to occur.  For example, if a tailor isn't performing a legitimate aspect of the tailoring process (e.g. distributing handbills in a public square to generate more business) or one that is peripheral (e.g. working in a setting completely disconnected or isolated from the master tailors), he or she isn't likely to master the knowledge, skills, discourse, or tools necessary to be a good tailor.  Rather, the "learning" will be fragmented and artificial.

There's much more that could be said about LPP, but that should be enough to provide a basic overview of the theory.  

Given the work I do with first-year students on my campus, my question is how LPP might inform the way we welcome, orient, and "teach" students during their first year.  Here are a few thoughts:

1.  First-Year Experience programs should be built around meaningful tasks.  Although there are certainly things that we want first-year students to know and be able to do by the time they finish their initial year on campus, talking at students about these things (whether it is in new student orientation, in a freshman seminar course, or any other formal setting) isn't likely to lead to any real learning or growth.  Instead, we should be identifying a series of developmental tasks that students can be invited (or better yet, expected or required) to participate in during their first two semesters.  And, no, I don't just mean coming up with a list of courses.  Thoughtful FYE administrators will consider what the practices and behaviours of "expert students" are and structure FYE tasks/objectives around these things.

2.   First-year students should be provided with a comprehensive view of the mission and purposes of their particular mission from the very beginning of their experience.  In West African tailor shops this happens through the early tasks novice tailors are asked to complete.  It's very simple, by working with finished garments that have been tailored by master's, newcomers develop a good sense very early on of what a quality finished garment should look and feel like.  And, having that comprehensive understanding helps guide and focus their learning as they move through other tasks.  For a first-year experience program this can and should happen at New Student Orientation.  I've written before about how this could happen during an Orientation Convocation, but there are other, more active ways to give students this perspective as well.  One that was suggested on my campus by one of the administrators involved in orientation was to invite second semester students to serve as orientation leaders.  At first this seems risky, after all, how much can a second semester student really know about campus or about what new students need to know.  But, there is an intriguing idea here in that expecting second semester students to convey institutional messages and model effective student habits for their peers might speed up their development.  By expecting nearly new students to help to orient and support even newer students, we provide them with a meaningful opportunity to embrace and internalize a set of beliefs and practices that are important for their success.  And, by involving them in these ways, we involve them in an important aspect of our work (legitimate peripheral participation).  Similarly, any opportunities for new students to mentor, tutor, or advise their peers (even if that is in a simple setting like a study group) can move forward their growth, again, because they are participating in the work of the institution in meaningful ways.

3.  First-year students should have access to "old-timers."  This could mean anything from experienced students, to faculty members, to administrators or staff members.  The key idea is to structure the first-year in ways that provide opportunities for these interactions.  As a non-example, consider the practice of packing new students into large lecture halls for "survey" or "intro" classes.  Not only is this generally a poor way to learn, it provides little to no opportunities for students to have meaningful interactions with a faculty member.  In contrast, small seminars, employment and research opportunities, and mandatory advising facilitate these types of interactions where new students can learn by watching, talking, and participating with more seasoned members of the campus community.

Ultimately, the goal of the first-year experience should be to invite new students to become full participants in the campus community by structuring their experiences and interactions in ways that allow them to actually participate in those practices.  And that can extend well beyond the realm of traditional academics, to the arts, meaningful service, and anything else that a particular campus might value.

Democracy & Education: What is the role of "experts?" What is the role of ordinary citizens?

In his book First Democracy, +Paul Woodruff argues for a set of seven democratic ideals (i.e. freedom, harmony, the rule of law, natural equality, citizen wisdom, reasoning without knowledge, and education) and their value for communities and institutions.  Using ancient Athens as a model, he describes each of these principles and then asserts that they still have relevance and value for contemporary political systems.

I'm only one chapter into the book, so I won't say any more about Woodruff's argument, but I am particularly interested in his chapter on citizen wisdom, because it seems to address a question that I've written about in a past post, specifically, the role of "non-experts" in making decisions about public education.  Woodruff uses the term "ordinary citizen" in reference to this group who have no formal training or expertise in particular aspects of government.

In the 2011 post that I linked to above, I raised the question of when we should involve ordinary citizens and when to tap into "expertise" when addressing educational problems or challenges.  I can't say that I am any more clear about that question as I write this post more than two years later.  However, Woodruff's introductory chapter has made me wonder about this question again in light of what he asserts about democracy.

First and foremost, he points out that voting, majority rule, and elected representation do not constitute democracy.  So, my previous argument that ordinary citizens are democratically involved in making educational decisions because they vote for elected representatives is flawed and I readily admit that.  For Woodruff, a "true democracy" is one where all adults are free to have a voice, join the conversation about key issues, and play a role in the decision-making process.

This sounds great on paper.  How could someone disagree that all members of a community should have their voices heard and be involved in the workings of government?  At the risk of being labeled un-democratic or anti-American (which is a particular risk where I live) I'll admit that, when it comes to decisions about public education, this idea scares me.  Quite frankly, I'm not sure that everyone in Provo or Utah County, or Utah, has the experience and knowledge necessary to make informed decisions about our schools.  It's not lost on me that, in saying that, I sound incredibly arrogant.

It's important to understand where my biases lie and where they come from.  I have taught in public schools in two districts in Utah, I work in an educational setting now (higher education), and I consider myself somewhat of a "scholar" when it comes to educational issues because of my graduate training.  So, naturally, I view education and learning as complex and nuanced ideas that are easily misunderstood.  Accordingly, I'm leery of letting just anyone have a strong voice when it comes to decisions about these issues.

At the same time, I also acknowledge that educational expertise (like any form of expertise) has the potential to lead to blindness and catastrophic mistakes.  So, I'm interested in exploring ways that both experts and ordinary citizens can productively participate together in making decisions about public education.  So, how do we do it?

I don't yet have any good answers.  Instead, I have a related question that might help to extend this discussion:  How should ordinary citizens prepare themselves to participate in this process?

I wrote out a really incoherent response to that question but the longer I wrote, the more uncertain I became.  So, I'll spare readers from the pain of reading those ramblings.  Instead, I'll finish with a final assertion and a plea for help.

Ultimately, democracy requires a lot of those who participate in it. So, for those of us who want to participate in making decisions about schools, we need to be willing to do more work than we've done in the past to be prepared to participate in meaningful and informed ways.

So, here's the plea, what should ordinary citizens be doing to prepare themselves to participate in decision-making about schools?  And, how can "experts" assist and support citizens in those efforts?

Again, I've struggled to know how to answer this question. In fact, because these are all such complex questions, this has been one of the most difficult posts I've ever written because I don't have any good answers.

Please help.

Redesigning our Campus Communities: What would a TEDCampus2.0 Conference Look Like?

On September 20th, TED will be holding its 2013 TEDCity2.0 conference, a day-long conversation led by an eclectic group of thinkers from a variety of backgrounds, including art, anthropology, sustainability, engineering, and transportation to name just a few.  Their goal?  Discuss and imagine what future cities might look like.  As I see it, they are essentially exploring the question "How can we design and create more effective communities?"

That's a question institutional leaders should be asking as well.  Granted, some probably are; however, TED's City2.0 conference provides an interesting model for how campus leaders could go about exploring this question.  Rather than insulated conversations among small groups of academics, what would happen if a campus or group of campuses were to convene their own Campus2.0 conference?

First, there would be a small number of core themes or issues that would be explored.  Second, experts and innovators from a broad range of areas would be invited to ensure that a wide range of perspectives are represented.  Third, the dialogue for each session would be built around a number of provocative questions.

Here's my vision of how it might look.


Session #1:  Redefining what it means to be a member of a campus community.  
Those of us who live and work on college campuses have become too tied down by our "roles" and the scripts that go along with those roles.  Students go to class, take exams, and occasionally participate in on-campus events. Faculty members teach classes, sit on committees, and do research. Administrators worry about their specific programs and make sure that resources are allocated.  It's all very fragmented and disconnected.  Sessions and presentations around this theme would help members of a campus community consider common goals and purposes, invite members of the community to reconsider what their role in the community should be (particularly as it relates to shared purposes), and discuss how various members of the campus community can be brought together to collaboratively address real challenges on a college campus.

Guiding Questions

• What does engaged citizenship on a campus community look like?
• How can a campus community enact principles of democracy in meaningful ways?
• Who are the vulnerable campus populations that need a voice in the campus community?
• What does a thriving campus community look like?  Feel like?  Sound like?

Who would be there?

• Citizenship & community experts who can discuss the philosophy of citizenship and community building and how those ideas can be applied on a college campus.
• Local, state, or national community organizers and activists who can apply their expertise to issues of community on campuses.
• Poverty experts, not necessarily because traditional forms of poverty are issues on college campuses (although they are probably more prevalent than we would like to admit), but to help members of campus communities to consider what other forms of poverty and vulnerability might exist (e.g. the plight of first-generation college students, adjunct faculty, etc.).  
• Historians who could discuss what citizenship has meant in the past, across societies, and what it can and should mean in the future.

The Dream Team (who we'd invite if we could have our pick of anyone)

• Robert Putnam, to discuss issues of social capitol and community
• David McCullough, because he's interesting and seems to have thoughtful things to say about just about anything.
• Clayton Christensen, because I disagree with the management principles he applies to higher education (it's good to have opposing viewpoints represented), but think he's an excellent thinker and it would be good to have his perspective on issues of campus citizenship.

Session #2:  Reinventing the Campus Experience

In a thriving campus community, the campus experience would shift from being focused on transactions (e.g. taking classes, providing instruction, coming to work to clean the buildings) to shared experiences that build meaning, social capital, and relationships.  So, we'd invite people that could speak to the ways in which experience can be designed to lead to these outcomes.

Guiding Questions

• How has the campus experience shifted in the last 20 years?  What might campus experience look like moving forward?
• Who are the key players positioned to impact campus experience?
• What are the elements of experience that will contribute to the academic, social, and civic aims of higher education?

Who would be there?

• Artists, poets, and musicians who could help us understand how to create aesthetic experience within our campus communities.
• Anthropologists who could speak to issues of human experience and what we know about it as a phenomenon.  
• Technologists, to help us think through both the promise and peril associated with integrating technology (especially new and social media) into the campus experience.
• Experience architects who can raise issues of story, design, aesthetics, interaction, and place within experience.

The Dream Team

• Tom Kelley, who could share IDEO's expertise in designing and shaping experience.
• Clay Shirky, to explore the impact of technology upon experience and what it means for communities.
• Jason Sweeney, who could help us understand how participatory art (and other large-scale community collaborations) can contribute to aesthetics, dialogue, and cohesion in a community.
• Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, to discuss what "flow" on a campus community might look like, feel like, and how it could be designed for.

Session #3:  Reimagining the Physical Campus

Campuses come in a variety of shapes and sizes.  Some are small campuses in large cities, others are large campuses in what students would describe as the middle of nowhere.  And, the exact design of a physical campus should vary depending on a variety of factors, including the size of the student body, whether it is a residential or commuter campus, and its institutional mission (agricultural land grant institution vs. science and technology).  The key is making physical design decisions intentionally and for the right reasons, not just under the pressure of space and cost.

Guiding Questions

• What can campus planners learn from successful cities?
• How can physical design decisions be leveraged to make a positive impact upon citizenship, engagement, and the student experience?
• What can physical campuses learn from successful virtual spaces that can be applied on a college campus?  What are the cautionary tales to be learned from these virtual spaces?
• What are the various types of spaces that should exist within a campus community?

Who would be there?

• Architects, because they design and build the stuff.
• Traffic engineers, because they understand the dynamics of moving bodies within spaces and how to make intentional decisions about flow.  
• Artists and graphic designers, because it should look nice.
• Industrial designers, to help us think through the products and materials that should be placed within communities and how they should be designed.
• Sociologists, to make sure the builders and accountants don't dround out the other voices.

The Dream Team

• Ray Oldenburg, because he understands the characteristics of effective community spaces and how to create them.
• Jane Jacobs (yes, we're bringing her back from the dead), because she could help us think about a campus community as a city and what that might mean.
• Toni Griffin, whose background in urban design, architecture, and place-making would provide incredible insights for a college campus.

So, now we just need TED to plan this conference and invite us all.  Would you come?

Aaron Osmond's Practical (read: Illogical) Argument for Ending Compulsory Education in Utah

+Aaron Osmond, a Utah republican state senator from South Jordan, asserted in a recent posting on the Utah State Senate blog (which has, curiously, disappeared from the web) that the state of Utah should end its requirement for children to attend mandatory schooling.  Osmond's argument is centered on two main premises:

(a) The United States is a country founded on the principles of personal freedom and unalienable rights;" consequently, "no parent should be forced by the government to send their child to school" (direct quote from the original blog post).   

(b) Parents have failed to take responsibility for and engage in their children's education, and the current requirement forces schools and teachers to become "surrogate parents, expected to do everything. . . . Some parents act as if the responsibility to educate . . . is primarily the responsibility of the public school system" (blog post).

While Osmond's two observations (i.e. that the US was founded upon personal freedom and that parents often don't take enough responsibility for supporting their children's education) are accurate, his logic is flawed at best and absent at worst.

First, in what is likely an act of deference to ultra conservative members of his party (as well as the Utah Eagle Forum, which seems to have as much control over Republican lawmakers as nearly any single individual or organization, even more than the LDS Church), Osmond selectively applies the worn-out "personal liberty" argument to promote a narrow political agenda.  The basis of this argument seems to be that because the US was founded upon principles of "unalienable rights," parents should have free license to make any and all decisions regarding their children's lives.  However, Osmond and his colleagues don't allow political opponents to use the same logic (personal freedom = parents can do whatever they want) in other aspects of parenting (e.g. taking their children to a restaurant that serves liquor in plain sight).  He can't selectively apply the personal freedom argument in some contexts, but not others.  Additionally, this line of logic is incredibly naive for someone claiming to be a lawmaker.  The basic premise of the law-making process is that governments limit some freedoms in order to promote the general welfare of its citizenry.

Second, Utah is already incredibly friendly toward parent choice in education, providing a number of home and charter school options.  In fact, for those parents who choose the home-school route, there is no mandatory testing or curriculum inspection--all they need to do is sign an affidavit committing to teach the same subjects as public schools and for the same amount of time.  In my opinion this already borders on negligence and couldn't be much more parent-choice friendly.  There doesn't seem to be much wrong with the current system in terms of providing parents with freedom to make choices about their children's education.

Third, although most parents could do more to be involved in their kids' learning (and some could do much more), making school "optional" isn't likely to help things.  Salt Lake City School Board member Michael Clara put it most succinctly "the cure would be worse than the disease."  Imagine what an already disengaged parent would do if his kids weren't forced to go to school?  Exactly.  He'd do nothing.  How is that better?

Finally, and most importantly, education is a public good.  So, while a parent should have some choice in how, when, or where her child is educated, she should not have the choice of whether her son or daughter receives an education because all of her neighbors (both present and future) need that son or daughter to be educated.  State and local governments (and, increasingly, the federal government) are concerned about and involved in influencing educational issues because having an educated citizenry is essential for a democracy to function.  So, ultimately, education is a means to enabling the very freedoms Osmond supports.

Because Osmond has seemed relatively intelligent in the past, I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt and believe that he hasn't somehow become stupider over the last few months.  Rather, I think he's probably been influenced by big players in Utah politics.  Regardless, his thinking that education could or should be made optional is flawed.

Community basketball courts as a model for schools

About two months ago, Provo City opened it's new Community Recreation Center.  It is a fantastic facility.  It's well designed, has state of the art equipment, is located in the heart of the city, and is a great value (a 12 month pass for my family was just under $400).  On average, I visit the rec center about once a week, mostly to use the fitness center.  To get to the fitness center, I have to walk by the four basketball courts located on the main level of the facility.

For me, they are one of the most interesting features of center, because in some sense, they have given rise to their own mini-community.  I realized this last week when it occurred to me that nearly every time I walk by the basketball courts, I see a young man from my neighborhood there playing basketball.  Sometimes he is there alone, other times he is playing one-on-one with a friend, and on other days he is in the middle of a pick-up game with a little larger group.

But, the biggest thing I've noticed about him is how much his game has improved in the last six months.  I know this because last winter, I saw him playing basketball in our church one night and, to put it bluntly, he was awful.  He couldn't make anything further than four feet from the basket, he missed half the lay-ups he took, and it was painful to watch his jumpshot.

When I saw him last week, he was by no means ready for the Timpview HS basketball team, but he was holding his own against a group of average guys his same age.  He even "looked" like a basketball player--he wore the basketball shoes you'd expect from a relatively serious player, had on the long basketball shorts that you see when you watch an NBA game, and even had the same type of socks I know HS basketball players wear.  It was like he had been enrolled in some kind of basketball school where they taught him how to shoot a jumpshot, how to play defense in the low post (he's a pretty tall kid for his age), and even how to dress.  In fact, he has been in "school," just a different type of school than what we typically think of.

While, I highly doubt that Provo City designed the basketball complex to facilitate learning, it has a number of features that make it a great place where learning (basketball-specific learning) can take place.  It's a lot like the neighborhood boxing gym or skateboard park in that it brings together a mini-community of people who are all interested in and engaged in the same activity, but who all possess varying degrees of skill and experience.  And, any organization who cares about how its members learn could take a few cues:

1.  A focus on authentic learning.  The kids and adults who play basketball at the rec center aren't participating in artificial drills, practice sessions, or contrived activities.  For the most part, they are engaged in real basketball games that allow them to participate in all of the aspects of the game of basketball from conditioning, to shooting, to defense, to rebounding.  So, each time they play, they're developing the full range of their game.  In addition, real games are much more motivating than artificial activities, which impacts learning and development more than nearly any other factor in the learning environment.

2.  Openness and opportunities to watch other learners in practice.  The three full-size courts in the complex are located next to one another in a large open space, without any dividing walls.  Additionally, there is an elevated track above the courts, and glass windows looking into the three-court complex.  Although the fourth court (a smaller one) is separated from the other three by a thin wall, it is next door, and also surrounded by glass windows.  This all means, that regardless of what court I'm playing on, I can see what's going on in the games next to me.  This is particularly critical for novice players because it means they have the potential to watch more advanced players in the game next to them.  So, a young player can see what good defense looks like, watch a reverse lay-up, or stand in awe at a smooth jumper.  In essence, it provides a novice with access to a wide range of practices within the community.  That access and the observational opportunities that come with it are invaluable for novice learners.

3.  Learners of various skill level together in the same space.  Because of the open design of the basketball complex and that fact that anyone can use it, there is a wide range of basketball ability represented on the courts at any one time.  Just last week when I was there, I saw one game being played by middle-aged men, another game made up of kids from the age of 10 - 15, and a Dad and his three kids playing on another court.  Again, this mix of ability levels means that new basketball players are likely to be playing right next to advanced players, which provides great opportunities for learning.  And, in addition to providing benefit to novices, it may even provide mentoring opportunities for veterans or "experts" looking to give back.

The take home message here is that learning is inherently a social enterprise that occurs most effectively when it becomes a community activity.  However, much of the formal learning that takes place in schools looks very different than the kind of learning I've described above.  Instead of being based in community, where learners from varying skill levels come together and watch, learn, and participate together, it is terribly fragmented.  It happens in isolated classrooms, where everyone has the same relative degree of knowledge or skill, and is rarely authentic in the ways we hope it would.

So, what would a school look like if it were patterned after a boxing gym, a basketball complex, or a skate park?  Could it work?  And, how would it be administered?