Transitions

Washington, DC

 

I just spent a long night in DC (long because sleep did not come easily after my evening nap).  It was sort of a transition day between my time in Japan and my next series of gigs in Columbus, Georgia.  Perhaps it will cushion the culture shock a bit.  Perhaps.

 

Jen and I have begun to really consider what our next year will be like, and last night as we Skyped, and emailed calendar items back and forth, and generally geeked out together online from across the country, we discussed how we might find some balance in our lives.

 

Next fall, Jen is heading back to school to work on a nursing degree, and I’ll be heading back to the classroom.  Aspen will be in 2^nd grade, and Johanna in 5^th (yikes!)  It’s going to be a busy year, even before the extra speaking engagements and panels I’ve already been asked to serve on.

 

What it comes down to is this: if I’m going to be gone from home, it better be something I’m passionate about, and it’s got to be financially worth our while.  This year, I’ve received my normal teacher’s salary, thanks to the generous support of Intel (based here in Oregon.)  I have occasionally received honoraria from various groups, and certainly been treated to some remarkable experiences, but compared to the sacrifices that my family and I have had to make this year, the monetary compensation has been, well, teacher-like.

 

After my official reign ends at the end of the school year, I have several organizations that have asked me to come speak at their events.  At this point, I’ll be able to charge a speaking fee and act as an independent consultant.  It feels a bit strange to be asking for decent sums of money in exchange for an hour of my thoughts.  But I need to remember that my thoughts are valuable, and have been shaped by some unique experiences.  And that an hour-long talk is actually years in the making, many hours in the preparation, and days in travel.  And finally, I need to honor my family and the sacrifices they have made this year on my behalf, and on behalf of other children.

 

I’ll be experiencing culture shock this fall as I settle back into a more “normal” life.  But I’ll bring parts of my new life with me, too.  Somewhat analogous to eating sushi in Georgia, I suppose.  It’s going to be an interesting transition.

 

 

Japan II

Tokyo, Japan

 

Life is beautiful.

 

Japan is a beautiful and fascinating country, but the true beauty is in its people.  Although publicly reserved, most of them tend to open up a bit in private.  After spending a bit of time together, and after a bit of sake, they’re downright hilarious.  Or should I say “hirarious”?

 

The Japanese people and culture are very complex, perhaps especially to the Western mind.  Japan is a land of paradoxes, and therefore I find it fascinating.

 

I was there as an honored guest of the RealScience foundation, an NPO working to help bring more experience-based science into public schools.  In just one year, they have made great strides and valuable partnerships.  After my visit last November, they asked me to return to Japan to teach a class and present at a symposium.  I was truly their honored guest, and was overwhelmed with their generosity, service and friendship.

 

I got to spend more time with many of the friends and colleagues that I met in November, including Nakajima sensei, Endo, Keiko, Kazu, professor Matsuda, and a dozen more.  I was introduced and made friends with many new people, too, including students, teachers, principals, professors, the most famous mathematician in Japan, the CEO of Toshiba, the mayor of Tokai City, and many people from the ministry of education.  We were even served in a traditional tea ceremony by a wrinkly little woman who couldn’t have been over 4 feet tall (yes, I'm sitting in this photograph.)  She was spunky and inspiring!  But each of these people showed each other and me the utmost in honor and respect.  I like that.  And it brought out the same attitude in me.

 

From the media coverage of my classes, they say I am now “famous in Japan.”  I was also awarded the Toshiba Innovation in Teaching award, a surprise to me on Saturday.  But much more than these things, I will cherish the people I have met, the meals we shared together, and the ideas we have exchanged.

 

I wish every person could experience the same level of kindness and respect I have been lavished with the past few days.  I’ve learned a tremendous amount about human nature, and am a better person because of it.

 

[For a video review of my November trip, and my top 40 insights into the Japanese culture (well, sort of) check here.  You won't be disappointed.  Well, unless you're from Japan.]

 

 

How.

Washington, DC

 

Addressed the Chiefs today in DC.  Not the team, but the heads of all the states’ departments of education.  (Some are “Superintendents,” some are “Secretaries of Education,” and so on, so they’re just collectively called “The Chiefs.”  That’s pretty cool.)  They were in town for a legislative conference, and I was asked to share with them a teacher's perspective.

 

I didn’t pull any punches.

 

But they seemed to enjoy the beating, for the most part.  I guess I have a fun way of tearing apart the status quo, which many of them are heavily invested in.

 

I made an impassioned case for redefining “achievement” to encompass what we know about the complex and varied nature of intelligence.  Measuring math and reading scores alone doesn’t do justice to our children or the complex and global world they are growing into and creating.

 

I told them what teachers across the country would want to tell them: we’re living in a climate of fear, and fear inhibits innovation, great teaching, and effective learning.  Something needs to change, and we are now standing at that pivotal crossroads.

 

“So what are you going to do about it?” I asked on behalf of the 50 million students and 3 million teachers that are seeing these policies played out at the ground level in their very lives.

 

Bold move?  Perhaps.  But the Chiefs seemed to take it well.  The delivery is nearly as important as the message, I’ve found.

 

Plus, now I’m on a plane out of the country.  That helps, too.

 

 

Risky behavior

Savannah, GA

 

When people hear that I'm a climber, they generally respond in a similar way to when they hear that I'm a middle school teacher.  "Wow, you must be insane."  People generally consider rock climbing to be an extremely risky endeavor.  But I would argue that the seemingly conservative act of staying home on the couch is actually more risky.  Hear me out...

 

Climbers do everything in their power to take the risk out of rock climbing.  We use specialized shoes, chalk, and the info in guidebooks to minimize the chances that we will fall.  We use ropes, protective hardware, and harnesses to catch us in case we do.

Lazy boys in La-Z-Boys take no such precautions.  They use potato chips, various carbonated beverages, and a sedentary lifestyle, all of which endanger their very lives.  As far as health and life is concerned, climbing carries an extremely miniscule short-term risk.  Couching it carries a near-certain long-term risk.  I know where I prefer to live.  And live fully.

 

When teachers or administrators force kids to do “seat time” instead of participate in an active, inquisitive, and rigorous education, we are putting them at extreme and unnecessary risk.  What seems like a safe bet in a climate of high-stakes testing is actually dooming our children to the educational equivalent of heart disease!  Due to an imbalanced educational diet of pre-packaged junk food and overhyped red meat, their hearts are giving out after only a few years.  Their hearts are literally not in it for the long haul.

 

Now, before I go on, I know there are still many people who think anyone who climbs has a death wish.  Indeed, there are a few aspects of climbing that carry more risk than others.  Every year there are a few elite climbers who keep pushing the envelope on harder climbs, in more extreme locations, with a minimal margin for error.  A small handful of them never come back.  But the enormous majority of climbers focus on well-protected routes that have been well developed and shared in the climbing community through researched guidebooks and word of mouth.

 

Newcomers to the sport usually spend months or years learning under an experienced guide on “top-rope,” a setup that insures any fall will only be a slip of a few inches.  Only later will he or she begin to “lead climb,” working on more difficult routes with more intrinsic reward (and leading to bigger muscles, too!)  The risk level increases slightly, but not much at all, because the safety equipment and good judgement are there.  It is certainly not as risky as the certain premature death that will result from a sedentary lifestyle.

 

Very few climbers ever truly develop entirely new routes, instead focusing on improving their skills and repeatedly working on tough sections of routes they hope to master.  There is creative expression in working to figure out how your particular climbing style and body type can successfully ascend an established route.  Your partners can give you advice, and will protect you in case of a fall, but they can’t solve the problem for you.  You must try, and fall, and try, and fall, and try again.  As the expression goes at the crags: “If you’re not falling, you’re not improving.”  You might as well just sit on the couch.

 

There are educators at the edge of our profession who are boldly pioneering new routes.  A few of them don’t make it back, but most of these brave explorers return with glorious stories, grand adventures, and experience to share.  And climbing routes that were at the cutting edge in the past are now safely accessible to average climbers who are experienced and willing to fall occasionally.

 

As educators, we can all push ourselves at whatever level of skill and risk that we are comfortable with.  Maybe it starts with just going for a hike.  Just get your butt off the couch (and certain death), grab a guide, and live a little!

 

Oh, and don’t forget to bring the kids.

 

The blank page, structure, and novelty

Washington, DC

 

I’m enjoying this new journal that my cousin, Becky, gave me.  Not only does it have a watercolor of Mt. Hood on the front, it also has blank pages!  My previous journal, which had more of a Mediterranean faux leather cover, had rule-lined pages.  I was a little worried that a lack of lines would lead to a lack of straightness of print, but it hasn’t been a problem for me.  And would it really be a problem if my lines weren’t straight, anyway?

 

But the blank pages immediately appealed to my creative tendencies, and I started by drawing.  Hopefully I’ll break free of the need to only write in order to reflect on my experiences.

 

On a related note, last night, while presenting some of my ideas at American University in DC, an education student asked me about structure.  He said that he’s learning in his ed classes that students do best with lots of structure, but that my classroom as I described it didn’t seem all that structured.  Here are my thoughts:

 

First of all, my class is actually quite structured, but it’s a more casual, fun structure, and students help develop it.  We have actually developed detailed procedures for turning in work, cleaning up, working in groups, what to do when you’re absent, etc. (all the stuff Harry Wong so effectively promotes in his book.)

 

But clean-up time, for instance, is signaled not by my voice or a noise-maker, it’s Barney’s clean up song (with a fitting plot twist for the annoying dinosaur.)  Students groove around, cleaning up, and are back to their assigned seats by the end of the song.  It’s highly structured, but it’s groovy structure.  Having high expectations and an orderly class that benefits students needing structure doesn’t necessitate a strict teacher, or students who work quietly in their seats.

 

In the same way, stability in a home doesn’t necessarily mean financial stability, or staying in the same house without moving.  Stability can (and should) be built on the relationships within the home, however temporal the location or shaky the income.  The same holds true in a classroom: true structure and stability can only arise from the relationships therein.  Since these relationships are between human beings, we need to treat each other as such, and not as mechanistic drones that need to do everything in a mundane or traditional way.

 

Which brings me my second point: human beings actually crave novelty.  This is obvious from observation, and neuroscience backs it up.  Engagement and learning occur from novel situations, and we need to provide these situations as often as possible for our students.  Kids generally aren’t quite sure what might happen on a given day in our science classroom (sometimes I’m not sure where things might go, either!), and that’s a good thing.

 

Not only does it help kids get excited about coming to class, it actually helps them learn.  For students who need lots of structure, make sure it’s there at a fundamental level, but never allow it to become too routine.  That’s when boredom sets in, and learning for most students (especially "at-risk" students) ends.

 

The blank pages of my journal actually have quite a bit of structure, and I would argue that they are fairly limited and don’t actually present me with the possibility for truly novel reflection.  They are only 6”x9”, two-dimensional, and bound into a book.  I can overcome these boundaries, and try to do so with the more freeform structure of the web, my short films, and in the interactions I have with other people.  I have yet to start tearing pages out of the journal to make an origami piece, but perhaps it’s a future possibility!

 

Structure is not synonymous with routine, drudgery, or strict authority.  It can exist in the same time and place as novelty.  The human brain needs both, and it’s our job to facilitate that balance.

 

I'm a Geek

Redmond, OR

 

I’m such a science geek.  I voluntarily sat in on an science symposium at Western Oregon University with presentations such as “Retention of sorbed nile red by manufactured organoclay in the presence of hydrocarbon-degrading bacterial isolates,” “The effects of varied ambient glucose concentrations on the intracellular glucose levels of human retinal pigment epithelial cells,” and “An examination of the effect of quercetin and bromelain on raw 264.7 macrophage function staphylococcus epidermidis and escherichia coli measured by cell demise and optical density.”

 

And that was just the high school student presenters!  (I’m not kidding.  Really.)  The next day we heard from the university researchers and some of their students.

 

I chose to participate in sessions on biological evolution, psychology, emergence in economic and natural systems, Tibetan Diaspora, and measuring the processes of group creativity.  Some fascinating ideas and good discussion.  I need that kind of stimulus, especially when it doesn’t directly apply to education.

 

I’ve never been one to read books on education, instead preferring to formulate my educational philosophy from personal experience, collegial relationships, action research, and reading in other areas such as psychology, philosophy, culture, economy, and developing science.  I find that my ideas tend to be more original, personally meaningful, and locally pragmatic when I’m the one developing them by synthesizing ideas from many fields.

 

The input from these presentations and discussions was enough to keep my inquisitive mind busy for a few days, opened up some ideas for me to research, and may eventually yield some new insights.

 

And all this on a weekend!  I’m such a geek.

 

Measuring and Teaching 21st Century Skills

Here's a report worth reading on the measurement and teaching of 21st century skills (a.k.a. non-cognitive skills, "soft" skills, "higher-order" skills, etc., that can include creativity, critical thinking, adaptability, collaboration, technological literacy, synthesis, and so on).  Produced by the Education Sector, it does a fair job of looking at the balance we ought to be striving for in our schools.  Check it out...

 

A Long Ways from the Action

Dallas, TX

 

I wonder if it’s frustrating working for a national organization trying to make a difference in children’s lives.  It just seems like it’s often a long ways from the action.

 

I’ve been serving on a task force to help make recommendations to the board of this major national organization for how to increase and promote the role of the arts in education.  The topic of Sunday’s particular sub-group’s focus was supposed to be “Directly Affecting Students.”  I was hopeful that we might somehow actually focus on this.

 

Unfortunately, with no clear funding, no real authority, a "facilitator" that dominated the morning's discussions with negativity and elitism, and a limited scope of which schools might be affected, I have little hope that much practical value for students will come of it.  Perhaps our focus group should have been called “Hopefully Indirectly Affecting Some Generally Privileged Students.”

 

When it comes to directly affecting students, I think I’ll stick to teaching.

 

We're Free!

Redmond, OR

 

Here’s an interesting idea: let’s have teachers work for free!

 

Oregon Governor Ted Kulongoski, in an effort to keep schools open, has asked teachers to finish out the school year on a volunteer basis.  In our case, that would be at least half a month’s salary (although the latest talk in Prineville is of 10-20 more days cut, in addition to the 10 we’re cutting already.  Worst case scenario: school ends at the end of April.)

 

But that’s where teachers would prove their undying commitment to children by donating a few thousand dollars worth of labor to keep the doors open.  Teaching has often been compared to missionary work, and now the comparison might become more valid.  Many teachers already have to find supplemental employment in the summertime to support their teaching habit (and take continuing education classes, as well.)  New teachers with young families often qualify for free or reduced lunch in the district in which they teach (and many even qualify for food stamps.)

 

To his credit, Kulongoski has agreed to take a 5% pay cut, and is encouraging other state employees to do the same.  The Governor is a great guy and has generally been an advocate for children and their education.  He has told me personally that his top three priorities are education, education, and education.  (I didn’t fully believe him, but education is probably in his top three.)

 

But I find his statement about teachers working for free to be a bit difficult to understand and digest.  Almost certainly, unions will protest.  And the public will be divided further between those who see teachers as overpaid, underworked whiners, and those who regard them as professionals who shape the future of our world.

 

Unfortunately, educators will again be caught in the trap between doing what’s best for children and doing what’s best for their own family’s livelihood.  It’s becoming tougher and tougher to achieve balance.

 

News Flash: Teacher of the Year Interacts with Live Adolescents!

Tulsa, OK – In a rare move Thursday, National Teacher of the Year, Michael Geisen, was allowed to interact with actual public school students.  Witnesses report seeing brief conversations and even physical contact such as handshakes and pats on backs.  There were no injuries, but students were advised to have their doctor or psychiatrist evaluate them for unseen damage.

 

In a break with protocol, Geisen, 35, eschewed his position at the reserved table and instead sat with a group of 6^th grade students who had come to hear him speak.  Lunch consisted of pasta, salad and bread.

 

“We took a big risk inviting adolescents to a celebration of learning,” remarked Dr. Debbie Landry of Northeastern State University in Tahlequah, Oklahoma.  “But it seemed to pay off, as there were no major incidents.”

 

When asked to comment on Geisen’s interactions, Dr. Landry was pleased.  “We had interpreters on hand, but Mike seemed to speak their language, and understand them, as well.”

 

“I was a bit nervous about it,” admits Geisen, who is on a yearlong sabbatical as a spokesperson for education.  “But I guess it’s a bit like riding a bike.  It comes back to you when you need it.”

 

Geisen is at home in central Oregon for the next day, recuperating with his family.  He will resume his travels on Saturday.

Handcuffed

Dallas, TX

 

Spoke to pre-service teachers this morning, then college faculty (teacher educators) this afternoon.  After outlining my grand plan to save the world through creative, rigorous, balanced teaching, a concern came up.

 

“Many of our teacher candidates want to teach like this, but the administration at the school they are working in has mandated the use of highly scripted teaching materials and programs.  They want to know what they can do.”

 

Tough one.  This hasn’t been the case for me (my school has been very supportive of my creative teaching style), and I’m guessing that it won’t be an issue in the future.  I would either utilize my now-amplified voice to make change happen, or just find a different district in which to work.

 

But what was my advice to young teachers without these options?  “If you have to, then you have to, at least for the first few years of your career.  Make the most of it, be as creative as possible, and find what is good about the curriculum.  Learn from it.  Once you’ve been there a while, and had some success in your classroom and the community, work to change the system.”

 

Patience, young grasshoppers.  Change takes time.

 

Bleak

Redmond, OR

 

Things are looking grim around here for kids.  Prineville schools have now cut all spring sports, outdoor school, music positions, and are likely going to cut even more days off the school year (we’re currently cutting ten.)  

Redmond schools (where my own children go) are closing the alternative high school because the students haven’t met test benchmarks, shifting principals out of schools because test scores are purportedly not rising fast enough, and have apparently even floated the idea of cutting all other classes besides “core” classes (like physical education, art, music, etc.) and letting students out early to balance their budget next year.

 

Who knows what it will look like, or what mitigating effects the stimulus bill might have, but whatever happens, it’s not looking good for children, parents, educators, or our collective future.

 

[editor’s note: congress just passed the stimulus package, which will hopefully infuse money to ameliorate some of these cuts.  It’s unclear at this point what will happen.  In the meantime, Prineville has rallied around the sports program and is determined to have at least something available for their kids.]

 

Southern Hospitality

Myrtle Beach, SC

 

Hush puppies, sweet tea, soap dispensers, Depends undergarments, and dial-up internet!  Ah, Southern hospitality…

 

Jen was bummin’ when she saw where I was staying this week: a resort on the beach in South Carolina.  Expected highs in the 70’s.

 

I was bummin’ when I checked in: the only thing in the 70’s was the décor.  “Budget cuts,” I was told with a sweet southern accent and a smile.

 

After dropping my bags in my room and getting introduced to the CERRA staff, they promptly kidnapped me for a night on the town.  After a dinner featuring hush puppies (I always thought they were a brand of shoes,) “she crab soup” (now usually made with both genders, however,) and Jambalaya (okay, technically more of a Cajun dish, but it was the only thing that wasn’t deep fried,) the real adventure began.  No one in this deserted resort town heard my cries for help.

 

After a 45 minute drive around town to find just the right shaped ice to crunch on, we visited the local WalMart to get some real shampoo, some disinfectant spray, and other products that seemed to go nicely in the basket of my electric cart.  It was a rather unique evening, to say the least.  My cheeks were sore from laughing when I finally (and cautiously) slid into the sheets.

 

This is a group of educators that loves to laugh, but I also learned that they are passionate and committed advocates for children.  They are active in the schoolhouse and the state house, educating teachers, the public, and their elected officials about the needs of children and the importance of public education. 

 

I was honored to be their hostage for a couple of days!

 

Stuffed

Washington, DC

 

Jen and I got to attend the NEA Foundation’s Celebration of Excellence Gala this weekend (“the Emmys for teachers”) to honor a handful of outstanding educators from around the country.  Several of my Teacher of the Year colleagues were being recognized, and two of them – Mike Flynn from Massachusetts and Rich Ognibene from New York – were among the five finalists.  It was a fun and celebratory event, complete with formal wear, musical performances, and a beautiful banquet hall.

 

Plus, Elmo and Cookie Monster were there.

 

After the event, LeAnn, a sweet friend of ours from Nevada, went up to get a photo with the two furry muppets, but was turned away… by Elmo’s bodyguard!  Apparently Elmo and his blue, baked-goods-loving pal were getting a few publicity shots with the choir, then whisked offstage by their security detail.

 

As lovable and approachable as the muppets are, the logistical realities of a big event preclude the opportunity to meet with the masses, I guess.  Or maybe their union didn’t want them being overworked for too little pay.  Whatever the reason, our furry friends only met with a few folks before the event in the VIP room (pictured here is my friend Rich from NY), and a few folks after the event for a photo op.

 

As furry and approachable as our new ed leaders seem (see this post), I wonder how the realities of this massive system called ‘education’ will play out.  Rest assured, if I ever get another pass to the VIP room, I’ll make the most of it.

 

Tinted, Not Tainted

Dallas, TX

 

Eight distinguished teachers pile into an airport shuttle with their luggage, but I get my own Lincoln Town Car (with tinted windows.)  We’re going to the same destination.  At the same time.

 

I was fortunate enough to attend the 2009 Teacher of the Year conference in Dallas this week, one year after I attended it as a participant and new honoree.  This year I was there as a facilitator/moderator/wiley-old-veteran guy.

 

What a remarkable group of people, each with their own stories and passions, taking on a new challenge in their careers with humility.  I was honored to be among them.

 

They were honored to have me there, too, apparently, as they showered me with compliments, sometimes bordering on reverence.  I don’t do well with reverence.  I assured them that I am just a man, and that they are every bit as worthy of the award as I.

 

But I still got a private car to the airport.  And although I had a wonderful conversation with the driver about this children and his family’s passion to care for the next generation, it felt awkward to be separated from my colleagues.  I felt much more comfortable reunited with them at the airport gate, sitting on the floor at their feet, sharing stories and laughing together.  No separation, no tinted windows, just sharing in our humanity.