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.

The implicit messages we send: What do students hear when we talk?

Some interesting things have been happening on my campus as of late.  We have eliminated our College of Health & Human Performance and discontinued the wellness requirement that was formally part of our general education requirements for graduation.  It's important to know that I am a graduate of that college and former physical educator and coach; consequently, one could say that the views shared here are biased (I won't argue with that).  However, that aside, this has raised some questions for me about what students may infer when decisions like this are made.  I'll use the decisions referenced above as an example and foundation for my argument and then offer some supporting examples.

In the email that students received from our University Administration this afternoon they were notified that they would not be required to complete a wellness requirement in order to graduate but that "As part of this change, we encourage you to make a healthy and active lifestyle a priority."  

I'm fairly sure that this is a sincere plea to students to continue to make good choices about their personal wellness; however, the question that wasn't asked by those that made this decision and drafted the email was how students would interpret this policy change.  What does a student really hear in all of this?  For most students I think the message they get is that health & wellness, at least during the college years, isn't all that important.  After all, if it was, wouldn't BYU require it?  And, what's with discontinuing the College of Health & Human Performance?  Are those departments and courses not as important as Biology or Business Marketing?  While many students will still take advantage of the elective courses offered by BYU, the students that needed the Wellness requirement most (those that wouldn't engage in exercise or healthy living on their own) will likely leave the university without ever being exposed to those faculty members, ideas, or activities.

The sad state of American's physical health aside, the larger issue here is that we need to think more carefully about how the policies we implement communicate our values to students (for a much more thoughtful and academic commentary on this idea see John Tagg's discussion of espoused theories and theories-in-use from Chapter 2 of his book The Learning Paradigm College).  Some other poor examples:

• Notifying students that they have received institutional scholarships by referring them to their "My Financial Account" page where the scholarship amount appears, rather than sending a congratulatory letter.

Message:  Don't be too impressed with yourself, if this was an important scholarship or a noteworthy honor we would have told you.

•   Teaching first-year courses in large lecture halls seating upwards of 800 students

Message:  Interacting with faculty members, getting to know other students, or participating in class aren't important parts of learning.

• Encouraging students to bring as much AP or concurrent enrollment credit with them as possible as they move from high school to college.

Message:  Higher education is just another set of hoops to jump through on your way to "real life."  Education means checking things off a list.

I'm sure you could add to this list if you thought hard enough.  Now, the good news.  There are schools that have aligned their decisions and actions very closely with their core values and students are picking up on it.  Although not universities, KIPP Schools are a great model for what I'm talking about here.  Some examples:

• Introducing every new student by name on the first day, to the entire student body.

Message:  Individuals matter; we know you and care about you

• "Stopping the School"--When someone violates a significant school rule, classes screech to a halt, and teachers and students hold a meeting to discuss what happened and how to fix it.

Message:  The things we ask you to do really matter; rules are a way of helping us become who we want to be.

• College visits by 5th graders (local colleges) & 7th graders (prestigious east coast schools).

Message:  My teachers really mean it when they say that what they want most is for me to make it to college.

For another excellent example of an organization (outside of education) that aligns its practices with its values see Tom Kelley's book The Ten Faces of Innovation and his anaylsis of IDEO, a design consulting firm based in San Francisco, California.  

What a Pakistani village chief has to Teach Higher Education

I recently read Three Cups of Tea, by Greg Moretenson & David Oliver Relin.  In Chapter 12 of the book ("Haji Ali's Lesson").  The authors share an experience that Mortenson had with a Pakistani man named Haji Ali.  In a nutshell Mortenson learned an important lesson from that encounter--namely, that building relationships is critical for any individual or organization that wants to do work that makes a difference.  

That seems somewhat paradoxical in the age of tweets, power lunches, and other "efficient" or "time-saving" practices.  But, those of us in education--a business that claims to be about improving people's lives through learning--should take notice and consider the way in which we do things.  If your campus is like mine, you have probably seen a lot of "innovations" in the last few years that seem very forward and progressive, but that beneath the bells and whistles actually hurt relationships.  

Here are a few examples from my own experience:

• No more admissions letters.  On my campus we have decided to save time and money by discontinuing the practice of sending letters to students informing them that they have been admitted to our university.  Rather, they are instructed to visit their application page and to check their "application status."  A status of "admitted" is meant to replace the letter most of us remember receiving.
• Online "One-Stop" student services.  In the past our institution staged a "one-stop" shop during the first two weeks of each semester.  This was a place where many of the useful campus resources (tuition payments, parking services, registration, etc.) were centrally located and available to students from 8 - 5.  This allowed students to visit a single "shop" to run their pre-semester errands.  We have now discontinued this practice and have moved everything online.
• Electronic Advisement Tools.  Within the last year we have launched a "MYMAP" registration and course planning system that allows students to create four year educational plans in an electronic medium.  The system helps students "organize" the list of courses they plan to take, "plan" which specific semesters they plan to enroll in those courses, and then "register" for courses during the appropriate semester.  

The list could be longer and I'm sure you could add to it.  At this point let me say that none of these things are inherently bad.  The university will save money by not mailing admissions letters, money that could be used to improve instruction.  Allowing students to purchase parking passes online before they arrive saves them from the headache of waiting in a line during the first week of classes.  Technology can definitely improve education and we have plenty of examples of that.  But, this also seems like a slippery slope that has the potential to move us away from some of the personal interactions, conversations, and relationships that I believe are critical to good educational practice.

In our efforts to be quick, seamless, and efficient, we sometimes eliminate opportunities for meaningful relationships to form.  There is power, for example, in a new student having a face-to-face conversation with a caring financial aid counselor who takes the time to help the student explore their options and find a financial aid package that best suits their needs.  The student leaves knowing that their are people on campus that care about their success.  That sort of experience, early in a students time on campus, can help shape their perspective of the institution and motivate them to excel.  An online financial aid selection tool might be faster, but something is lost when we eliminate the need for personal conversations.  In terms of advisement, some students may be able to navigate their experience using an electronic tool and even craft a very good educational plan.  But, an academic advisor, trained to engage students' in reflective conversations can do much to help students articulate their goals, dreams, and aspiratioins.  The vision that emerges in these conversations would seem to pay dividends in terms of student movitation, engagement, and persistence.

So, while relationships take an investment of time, effort and, often, monetary resources.  Those investments seem necessary to make if we want our educational enterprise to lead to the personal development of students.  It also positions those of us who interact (or should interact) with students--faculty members, student affairs professionals, admissions staff, etc.--to learn and develop through those interactions.  

Let's not get to antsy to innovate and streamline things.  It could come back to bite us.  Building relationships is just as important as building websites, curricula, or campus infrastructure.

Customized Learning & Civic Purposes of Education

After my last post (What would a Talent Code school look like?), my friend Gary Daynes raised an interesting question that I had not yet considered:

"How do the civic purposes of education fit in this model, which is so focused on differentiation and students moving at an individual pace?"

This is an important question to address because, like Gary has pointed out, a school like the one I described in my post has the potential to become a place where we see fragmented, isolated learning--not exactly the type of school I argued for.  In this scenario students would become self-absorbed learners with no real concern for using their education to make a difference in their community.

But, think that a combination of two things could keep this from happening.

1.  Humble learners:  Humility--characterized by a recognition that one's knowledge, perspective, and experiences are limited--would seem to draw a student to other learners in an attempt to glean from their studies and experiences.  Even if a student is pursuing their own learning, this element of humility would seem to engender a curiosity and desire to see how their learning fits with the others in their learning community or classroom.  How does what my classmate is studying connect to my learning?  What might I learn from her that could advance the learning I am doing in my realm?

In a related way, humility would also seem to lead to a gratitude for the learning one has acquired.  When a learner is grateful they seem to want to share their learning and use it to improve the people and things around them.  A humble learner would then look for opportunities to apply their learning towards grappling with authentic questions and problems in their environment.  For example, A high school soccer player studying human anatomy and basic principles of sports medicine might seek out opportunities to help teammates experiencing injuries.  

Teachers and schools should explore ways of helping students to develop this attitude of humility in their approach to learning.  At first glance it seems inefficient and disconnected from their purposes.  But, it could pay big dividends in terms of the way learners interact with each other and their communities.

2.  Teachers who know how to integrate students' learning in meaningful ways.  Gary's question has helped me realize that good schools don't just allow learners to pursue individual learning goals.  At some point, in the process they also bring learners back together and engage them in meaningful collaborative work.  In my mind's eye I see students invidividual learning equipping them to serve as "expert stakeholders" or "consultants" on group projects that require each group member to bring their learning and apply it towards developing a solution to a real problem that has been presented by the instructor.  In this way students personal learning goals are honored and validated, but they are also shown how their individual learning can be joined with others to produce powerful results.  In these classrooms an instructor's role is to, first, help students pursue their own learning and, then, to craft and identify problems/tasks/projects that bring groups of students together in a democratic way.

In short, while differentiated and self-paced learning might appear to run counter to the civic purposes of learning, if facilitated in the right way it may have the potential to be even more powerful than the type of civic and democratic learning we see in more traditional classrooms.

What would a Talent Code school look like?

One of the best books you've never heard of is probably The Talent Code by Daniel Coyle.  He writes about how to "grow" talent and what conditions lead to the development of skill.  I think his book has some interesting implications for the way that we design and administer schools.  Here is what a school might look like if Coyle designed it.

1.  An emphasis on deep learning through authentic practice & feedback--The best kinds of learning and growth occur when learners are in the "sweet spot", that zone where the learning task is just beyond their current abilities.  In this place a learner can attend to mistakes (which Coyle identifies as critical to improvement) and become fully absorbed in learning.  It is learning through these mistakes that a student experiences the greatest amount of growth (think about the student who takes seriously her teachers red-inked comments on the first draft of her essay).  In a Talent Code school, we would find classrooms full of students working on a variety of learning tasks, each suited to the learners needs and abilities.  Gone would be the days of 30 students working on an identical set of worksheets or the same set of math problems.  This, of course, implies the need for smaller class sizes, increased adult guidance, and teachers trained to quickly identify learner needs and respond with appropriately designed learning activities.  

This also means a paradigm shift in the way teachers and students approach learning.  If mistakes make me better, I must embrace struggle.  Far too often teachers and those they teach see mistakes and slip-ups as a sign of stupidity or inability.  A Talent Code school will help students develop a growth mindset, wherein struggle, effort, and hard work are valued and seen as the path to eventual competence and excellence.  In this school, the "smart" kids are the ones who learn from their mistakes, not the ones who never make mistakes.

2.  A focus on "igniting" a passion for learning--As described above, a Talent Code school asks a lot of its students.  There is a great deal of hard work and high levels of commitment required in order to experience the kind of success expected of students.  If students are not passionate about what they are doing, they will never engage in the deep practice and hard work necessary to experience significant growth.  Thus, teachers and administrators at a Talent Code school will spend a great deal of time thinking about how to ignite this passion in learners.  This will probably look different at each school, but some general principles apply

a.  A desire to belong:  KIPP schools (see Chapter 7 of Talent Code) have a very

 concrete and explicit culture; they clearly communicate to students that being a "KIPPster" means doing certain things.  It becomes a learning club of sorts, a club that students long to feel a part of.  This desire for belonging can be tremendously motivating (I think we see this same principle at work in a destructive way among gangs and terrorist groups).

 b.  A vision of what one can become:  When a young student can see what they are working towards (for KIPP students this is enrollment in college) they also see how their efforts are connected to a future goal.  A Talent Code school will use images and language that help to create this picture for its learners.  Keeping alumni connected to the school and inviting them to return to interact with students seems critical here.  When a student sees someone that was once "like them" and became something great, they start to see and believe in what they can become (see Coyle's discussion of the Curacaoan little league teams for an example of this principle at work; Chapter 6). 

 c.  Connection to personal interests and goals:  A Talent Code school will provide students with choice in what and how they learn.  This will be messy, but it is allowed because it leads to better learning.

  

3.  Master Coaches & Teachers:  Talent Code schools will aggressively pursue the best teaching talent available and then continue to develop and evaluate it.  Teachers in Talent Code schools (Coyle might call them "Talent Whisperers"--Chapter 8) listen and watch far more than they talk or lecture (in fact, they might never lecture) and then offer small, targeted, highly specific adjustments and feedback to learners.  They deliver information precisely at the moment that learners need it most and they model effective learning, leaving an image in memory of what good learning or performance looks like.  More than anything, they see and help learners correct errors and they do it in a way that signals to the learner that they are cared for and valued.  Not only are they pedagogical masters, they also possess a deep matrix of understanding within their discipline which allows them to make quick and accurate judgments (similar to the ability described by Malcolm Gladwell in Blink) about students abilities and needs, and then respond in a customized way.  I think that Michelle Rhee, chancellor of Washington DC Public Schools is doing some interesting things along these lines. 

Why would anyone take the effort to create schools like this?  Because they would work.  Students would learn, parents would be engaged in the school community, teachers would value their work and persist at it, and communities would be transformed.  Granted, what I have described here is an ideal; however, working towards ideals is what leads to change.