Access . . . to what?

Yesterday I had the opportunity to visit two fairly unique educational institutions in the Wasatch County access in preparation for a more intensive two-day conversation that will be held in January.
School District as part of my involvement with BYU's partnership with the District.  The purpose of the day was to provide raise issues of

Our first visit was to the North Campus of Wasatch High School, which is a satellite campus of Wasatch High School and whose mission is to support students who are at risk of not graduating from high school.  As an aside, the District has taken a unique approach to supporting highly at-risk students by eliminating its "alternative school" and integrating it with the traditional high school.  In addition to countering the stigma of "alternative education," it provides these students with access to the resources and opportunities enjoyed by their peers (e.g. clubs, interscholastic athletics, elective courses).  After brief remarks from the administrator of the North Campus, Adam Hagan, we heard from a panel of eight students who described the challenges that led them to the North Campus and what they were currently doing to work toward graduation.  Every one of them was articulate, candid, and respectful in their responses and it was incredibly enlightening (and somewhat sobering) to hear their stories of school and where our traditional approach to education had fallen short in their cases.

Our second stop was at the Wasatch County Jail where we had the opportunity to meet and talk with two panels, both a group of men and a group of women who are enrolled in adult education programs while incarcerated.  Again, they were far more articulate than I had naively assumed, seemed passionate about learning, and incredibly grateful for the access they were being provided with to improve their lives (One of the most interesting stories of the day came from 45 year-old Duane who was raised on a farm in Ohio and to this day has never stepped inside a school.  He's learning to read and write through the adult education program at the jail).

These two experiences have shifted my view of issues of access in education.  Typically, dialogue around access centers on rather simplistic (though not unimportant) questions of providing educational access to underrepresented or underserved populations, and providing access to technology.  But, what I realized in listening to the students I met yesterday was that access is a much broader issue than just making sure kids get to school and have a computer.  The stories they told, except for in Duane's case, were not about access to school or even access to technology.  They went to school and, for the young students at the North Campus, had access to a relatively rich array of technological tools while at school.  But, what they repeatedly shared with us was that their experience of school failed to provide them with access to nurturing and supportive relationships.  Each of them told the story a little differently, but the overall theme was the same.  For Orlando, he didn't have access to teachers who were willing to try and understand the challenges he faced as a 17 year-old father and student for whom English is a Second Language.  For Joe, there was no one who knew him well enough to know that he was working 40+ hours a week at the community grocery store, so he could buy a car that would be dependable enough to ensure he could make the long drive to school each morning.  For Starr, who was probably the most articulate of the group and wise beyond her years, "people listened, but never heard" her.  And, McKayla, an Iraqi immigrant who you'd guess had lived in Utah all her life because of her complexion and perfect English, had no one to talk to about what it was like to be bullied because of her ethnicity.

Everyone we spoke to was quick to recognize their own personal responsibility and failings that had contributed to their struggles; however, it was clear that, to a person, they had felt forgotten, overlooked, and isolated throughout the vast majority of their school experience.  They had access to school, but had not been able to access the relationships they needed in order to navigate and make sense of their school experiences.  The value of the "schools" they are in now is that relationships are a key focus.  At North Campus, students benefit from what Adam Hagan described as "shoulder time," where a caring teacher works one-on-one to teach, answer questions, encourage, and challenge.  And, at the jail, Ms. Wheatley (who was described with fondness, accompanied by tears, by more than one inmate), has clearly left students in her classroom feeling valued and respected because of the individual attention she provides.

I'm not saying that we shouldn't be focused on more traditional issues of access and work to provide educational opportunity for all students.  However, part of the discussion of access needs to include consideration of, not only how we get students "into school," but also how we provide access to the human resources and relationships that, ultimately, are the vehicle for meaningful learning.  Whether those relationships are with teachers, parents, aides, peers, or anyone else within the school environment may not matter as much as structuring schools and school systems in ways that allow these relationships to take hold and flourish.

The take home for me from my experiences yesterday is that access is a layered and multi-faceted phenomenon including access to opportunity, access to subject matter or content, access to learning tools and resources, access to dialogue and conversation, access to models and exemplars, and access to relationships.  If we're really going to tackle problems of access, we've got to take on the whole problem.  A piecemeal approach won't do.

The John Swallow Resignation: Mistakes were made (but not by me)

This morning, the Salt Lake Tribune reported on what I think is one of the most interesting types of social phenomena we observe in our modern society--the resignation of a high-ranking official in the wake of accusations of misconduct.  The state of Utah breathed a sigh of collective relief this morning at the news that State Attorney General, John Swallow, is resigning from office after only 10 months on the job.


Regardless of where you sit politically or feel about Swallow personally, the breadth and quantity of the accusations levied against him make it difficult not to question his ethics.  There were claims of facilitating bribes, promises of preferential treatment to various individuals and businesses, questions of extortion, and issues relating to the receipt of improper gifts.  And, there was also talk of possible campaign violations in his most recent election.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I lean democrat and thought Swallow was a bit shady long before he was elected (indeed, the SL Tribune's endorsement of his challenger looks pretty prescient at this point).  But, those biases aside, 88% of the rest of our heavily conservative state was less than pleased with him as evidenced by his most recent approval rating, so it's hard to argue that this has all been driven purely by party politics.  Additionally, members of his own party (including the Governor) had done very little to impede the House investigation into the accusations at the center of the controversy.

The almost unbelievable part of this story for me has been Swallow's continued unwillingness to acknowledge  any degree of carelessness, naivete, or unprofessionalism, to say nothing of guilt or unethical behavior. This statement sums up Swallow's stance quite well:

"I maintain my innocence of all allegations and I want you to think for a minute what that means," he added. "If I truly am innocent, as I claim I am, then today is truly a sad day in Utah, because an election has been overturned."

It sounds a bit like Henry Kissinger's response to charges he committed war crimes during the Vietnam era ("Mistakes were quite possibly made by the administrations in which I served."), except that Swallow isn't just pointing the finger at his colleagues, he's denying wrongdoing from anyone in his circle.  His statement "I want you to think for a minute" seems to suggest that the collective citizenry of Utah has made the mistake by "overturning an election."

We may not ever know if Swallow is really guilty of what he's been accused.  But, if he's not guilty, he's either incredibly naive or just plain stupid to have allowed himself to become entangled in so many questionable practices.  So, one way or another, he's made mistakes (I made a similar argument about 18 months ago in a post about athletic scandals).  At this point he'd do well to consider Lao Tzu's  sage advice:

A great nation is like a great man: When he makes a mistake, he realizes it. Having realized it, he admits it. Having admitted it, he corrects it. He considers those who point out his faults as his most benevolent teachers.

One way or another, mistakes were made, and not just by everyone outside of the Swallow camp.  

Educating the Whole Athlete: The Georgetown University 'Hoyas Lead' program

I'm often critical of intercollegiate athletics in these posts; however, as a former student athlete I do recognize the contribution that college sports can make to a student's development.  The problem is that most large Division I institutions are not as strategic and intentional about creating athletic programs that facilitate this growth as they could be.  There are, however, some notable exceptions.

One institution that seems to have gotten it right is Georgetown University.  Now in its second year, Georgetown's Hoyas Lead program is a very intentional, organized, and well-supported attempt to make good on the institutions philosophy that athletics should, ultimately, be focused on achieving developmental outcomes for participants.  The existence of the program isn't all that noteworthy because virtually every Division I athletic program has some kind of program, initiative, or council whose stated mission is to support the overall development of student athletes.  What is impressive about Georgetown's program is it's comprehensive approach, its scalability, and the high level support it has received on campus.  Indeed, there are a number of things about Hoyas Lead that set it apart from the myriad other programs which seem to only pay lip-service to their missions.

Visible, public, and financial support from the Univ. President.  President John J. DeGioia created and funded (from his own budget, not athletic monies) the assistant athletic director position with responsibility for overseeing and administering the Hoyas Lead program.  If nothing else, this is a symbolic gesture that conveys a message of urgency and importance to both the athletic department as well as the rest of the campus community that he's serious about providing a certain kind of experience to student athletes.  And, because he has financial skin in the game, he's likely to be more interested in what's happening in the program and following up to ensure that they are achieving their outcomes.

The right leader.  Hoyas Lead is led by +Michael Lorenzen, Georgetown's Assistant Athletic Director for student-athlete leadership and development.   Lorenzen brings a unique background and set of experiences to his role that position him to have credibility with stakeholders both in and outside of the athletic department.  He's a former Division I head coach (and was very successful when judged by traditional measures of athletic success), which earns him credibility with coaches at GU;  ran a consulting firm for college athletics administrators, which means he understands the administrative realities of NCAA athletics; and has a PhD. in leadership education and is a well respected scholar in that field--a tremendous asset when it comes to interfacing with faculty members and administrators at GU who don't live in the fieldhouse.  It's this last credential that makes Lorenzen most unique.  Very rarely does an athletics department hire an "academic" to fill these kinds of roles.  The fact that they have isn't just savvy, it means that Lorenzen has a philsophical and research-based approach to his work.

Bridges across campus.  Although Hoyas Lead is administered by the department of athletics, it brings together colleagues from athletics, academics, and student services (a rare feat in the academy).  Not only does this mean that its visibility is elevated, but by bringing together experts from all three of these areas, GU is able to provide a much better service to student athletes.  Compare this to the typically insular attitude and approach that "athletic success centers" typically take (case in point:  I have sent probably 10 emails to the director of my instition's "Student Athlete Academic Center" over the last year to notify him of first-year students that are struggling and, in every case, the response has been give or take a few words "Thanks, we'll take care of it."  No additional questions, follow-up, or requests for support from the academic side of the house).

A multi-faceted approach.  While Hoyas Lead does include the traditional orientation and leadership coursework that is found in a lot similar programs, it also includes co-curricular components (e.g. field work, mentoring, opportunities to teach, and service).  Even more notable is the fact that Lorenzen spends a good chunk of his time consulting and interfacing with individual head coaches and athletes.  He observes teams "in the field" so to speak by attending practices, games, and team meetings to get a sense for team culture.  Then, meets with individual coaches and athletes to integrate the more formal parts of the program to the unique needs of individual teams.  The most important by-product I can see from this approach is that he now has relationships with coaches and athletes.  And, relationships are vehicles for change.

The right not to participate.  I've written before (quite adamantly at times) about the need for institutions to require more of students.  And, I still assert that for the overall campus population, requiring students to engage in a small number of practices that clearly lead to positive outcomes is a good practice.  However, in this case, I think Lorenzen has been wise to shy away from requiring every student athlete to participate.  The first and second year curricular component is "required," but technically isn't mandatory and Lorenzen doesn't hunt anyone down who doesn't register for the coursework.  While this is potentially problematic because it leaves students wondering what the term "required" really means, it's not a bad approach to have an expectation that everyone will participate in the low-level introductory aspects of the initiative.  Once student athletes reach their junior year, their participation is completely voluntary.  This means that Lorenzen can devote the most valuable resources and impactful aspects of the program to those students who are truly committed to and invested in growing as leaders.  And, in reality, without a voluntary buy-in to things like service, mentoring, and the like, students aren't likely to grow anyway.  The key is in developing a culture and expectation among new students that carries through to these later years.  That way, it's understood that "Hoyas lead," and there's some social pressure to participate, but ultimately it's up to each individual to take up that opportunity.

Georgetown has provided a great model for the rest of the NCAA to follow.  Maybe the women's hockey teams at Ohio State and Bemidji State should pay attention.

Mr Holland's Opus, The Freedom Writers, and Stand and Deliver: Educational pornography that is bad for the teacher's soul

On Wednesday and Thursday of this week I participated in a retreat as part of Brigham Young University's Wasatch County School District (WCSD), based in Heber City, Utah.  This partnership is coordinated by BYU's Center for the Improvement of Teacher Education & Schooling (CITES) and includes an "Associates Program" that brings together both public school and university educators to discuss provocative educational issues.  I've been incredibly impressed with the passion and thoughtfulness of both the teachers and administrators from the WCSD.
partnership with

In a conversation on Wednesday, Jim Judd, the Director of Human Resources for the district made an incredibly insightful observation about the genre of films celebrating the efforts of inspirational teachers (i.e. like those I listed in the title of this post).  He pointed out that while these kinds of stories are incredibly inspirational for non-educators, they can (much like pornography) create unrealistic expectations for how educators can and should do their work.  In short, just like the adult film industry leaves ordinary people wondering how they could ever perform like the "actors" they see on screen, the stories told of Jaime Escalante, Erin Gruwell, and Glenn Holland leave most educators feeling both inadequate and discouraged.

Jim's observation is an astute one.  The reality is that very few teachers have the time, energy, or disposition to approach teaching in the super-human way that is subtly advocated for in these kinds of films.  And, when teachers are made to feel that they should all be like Ron Clark (one of the new breed of "inspiring," "innovative," and superstar educators), frustration, hopelessness, and feelings of failure won't be far behind.

Another problem with these films, one I've noticed before and that Jim commented as well, is that they tell a story of successful teaching that implies that the professional identity of the teacher is more important than any other aspect of their lives including health and family.  Consider the fate of the three teachers I've referred to above:  Jaime Escalante has a heart attack, Erin Gruwell gets divorced, and Glenn Holland has a deteriorating relationship with both his wife and his hearing-impaired son.  Yes, they're all great teachers, but is getting all your kids to pass the AP exam, to write well, or to play a score of music as important as your health and your family?  Hollywood would have us believe yes.

Finally, this group of feel-good films, does little to help a teacher understand how to facilitate meaningful learning.  They follow a typical narrative form:  new or unprepared teacher enters a challenging classroom environment, things are so bad they consider quitting, they come up with some kind of creative or "engaging" activity that breaks through the icy-cold disengagement of the students, and "poof" magic happens and lives start to be transformed.  Inspiring, but empty when it comes to helping real teachers understand how to facilitate real learning.

So, as entertaining and sometimes jear-jerking as these films can be, think twice before you show it to a teacher.  It's as good as showing them porn.

A case study in deep and engaged learning: A virtual tour of BYU

I have been accused (and probably rightfully so) at times in the past of being overly critical of my own institution (as an aside, my response has been and still is that I'm critical of what happens at BYU because I care deeply about its mission and hold those who work and learn here to a high standard).  So, periodically, I intentionally go looking for good things happening on my campus.  I found one this week.

A team of 15 students from BYU' BYU's College of Fine Arts and Communications has developed a virtual tour of BYU's Provo, Utah campus.  In addition to the fantastic visuals tour goers encounter, there are opportunities to explore historic images, video content, and social media plug-ins.  And, just as an in-person campus tour might be interpreted as a mechanism for telling various aspects of the "story" of an institution (this article from +Peter Magolda makes one of the best arguments for this idea that I've read), a virtual tour has the potential to tell other aspects of this story, using different means of storytelling.  And, it's a tour that a student can "take" from anywhere in the world, and any number of times.  Finally, because the tour is self-directed, it allows students to customize their experience and search for the things they need, as opposed to the traditional canned, one-size-fits-all tours led by a student leader (though this format clearly has its own advantages).
But, this post isn't about the virtues of the tour itself, but rather the process that led to its creation.

The project was organized and coordinated by BYU's +Laycock Center, which is housed within the College of Fine Arts and Communications and whose mission is to provide students and faculty members within the college with opportunities to collaboratively develop solutions that address real problems both at BYU and elsewhere.  It's a great example of how an academic unit can provide meaningful opportunities for students to integrate their academic work with what they might term "real life."  And, the virtual tour project illustrates a number of best practices for the deep and engaged learning that should be happening in higher education more often.

1.  It was collaborative . . ..  The project led to good learning for the students who participated, in large part because it involved them in interacting with other students.  Instead of holing students up in the basement of the library to prepare for an exam, write a paper, or do some other kind of lonely academic work, the project brought students together to gather data, analyze a problem, and develop a solution that drew upon their collective knowledge, skill, and experience.  Listen to what one IT student had to say about his experience with the project:   "I thought it would just be coding things, but I was able to meet so many good people and learn a lot of new skills." As the student alludes to, this team approach was likely a bit jarring or even frustrating for some students accustomed to working on their own, but led to a much better learning experience than they would have had with a traditional do-it-yourself project.

2.  . . . and interdisciplinary.  Not only did students work collaboratively, but they worked collaboratively with people from outside their departments.  So, there were musicians working alongside actors, and IT students trying to get along with students in journalism.  In addition to improving the quality of the final product, this cross-section of perspectives and skill sets provided opportunities for students to hear new ideas, practice representing their own ideas in coherent ways for others who think very differently, and to see how ideas are improved when they emerge from dialogue among a diverse group of thinkers.

3.  Support from faculty mentors.  Although the project was largely student-driven, students weren't completely on their own.  They worked closely with faculty mentors who could provide guidance, raise new questions, direct students to resources, and provide feedback all along the way.  And, this participation alongside experts is just as important for learning as is the experience of working through problems with other novice peers.  When a student is mentored by a faculty member they see how an expert does their work and how they think about problems.  Those are things they can't learn from a textbook or a collaborative project that involves only their peers (valuable as that may be).

4.  Expanded opportunities for future experience.  I've blogged before about John Dewey's criteria for educative experience, one of which is the notion of continuity.  In a nutshell, this criterion emphasizes the need for a learning experience to expand a learner's possibilities for future learning experiences.  Thus, a good learning experience is one that serves as a springboard for future learning.  And, this is exactly what happened for two of the student leads who worked on the virtual tour.  One is an advertising student, the other is a student in Information Technology--two groups that rarely interact.  However, their experience collaborating together on the virtual tour, not only convinced them of the philosophical value of collaborative efforts, but led them to join forces for work on additional projects since completion of the tour.  Virtually every institution of higher education contains some kind of language in their mission statement about life-long or continued learning, and students' continued participation in collaborative, interdisciplinary work is tremendous evidence that this objective has been meant (much more telling than a students response to a survey item inviting them to report their likeliness to "continue learning."

As educators, we need to be providing more opportunities like this for students.  Teaching and educating, ultimately, is about providing learners with experiences that shape and transform them.  Although increased knowledge, skill, and understanding come along the way, this should all be subsumed by a more holistic change in a learner's view of the world.  And, that's what I see happening (even on a very small scale) among students who have opportunities like those who participated in developing the campus tour.  And, even if you don't care all that much about learning (I know no one working in higher ed would ever knowingly admit this, but you know who you are), these kinds of experiences have relevance for the financial and business sides of the institutional house.  Listen to how one student's perspective of the institution changed as she worked on the virtual tour project:

"I'm a senior, and honestly, I was starting to get kind of sick of campus, [said +Paris Sorbonne, an advertising student who served as the project manager on the virtual tour] but there was this moment during this project when I thought 'I want to be here.'  This campus is just so beautiful.  There is a legacy behind it.  It's changed lives.  So that split second when I felt that, I thought this is what I want the tour to be about."

Working on the tour didn't just enhance Sorbonne's learning experience, it helped her understand and connect with the institutional narrative at BYU.  And, that left here feeling a sense of purpose and motivation that had been missing before the project.  That connectedness is likely to stay with her long after she graduates, and that holds big implications for the type of alumnus she'll be.

So, whether you're a faculty member, administrator, or someone working in the enrollment management, business, or alumni office, you should care about whether or not this type of thing is happening on your campus.

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.