But, This Is The Job...

There’s a shift happening in education right now, often framed as a return to “back to basics.” On the surface, that sounds reasonable—necessary, even. Literacy, numeracy, order, and structure are foundational to good schooling, and few would argue against the importance of calm, focused classrooms where learning can occur.

What is less often acknowledged, however, is what is sitting just beneath that language. Increasingly, there is a quiet but growing belief that some students simply do not belong in those spaces.

More specifically, the students being pushed to the margins are not those with identified learning disabilities, medical needs, or cognitive delays. As a profession, we have made meaningful strides in supporting those learners. The students we continue to struggle with are those whose challenges present behaviorally—students who are defiant, dysregulated, non-compliant, or, at times, aggressive. These are the students who disrupt classrooms and, in doing so, disrupt the expectations teachers have for what teaching should feel like.

The response, whether explicit or implied, is becoming more common: remove the child.

It is easy to interpret this trend as a lack of care or compassion. I don’t believe that’s the case. A more honest—and more uncomfortable—truth is that many educators do not feel adequately prepared to support these students effectively. Rather than addressing that gap in capacity, we have begun to redefine the problem itself. Exclusion becomes “structure.” Removal becomes “rigor.” Avoidance becomes “back to basics.”

Teaching Human Beings, Not “Students”

Years ago, I attended a session led by Phyllis Cardinal at Samson Elementary School, and her message has stayed with me ever since. She reminded us that children who are hungry, angry, lonely, or tired are not ready to learn, and that our role is not to teach abstract “students,” but to teach human beings.

That distinction matters. When we think in terms of “students,” it becomes easier to define success in terms of compliance, productivity, and performance. When we recognize that we are working with human beings, we are forced to consider the broader context each child brings into the classroom. Their behaviour is not random; it reflects their experiences, their needs, and the conclusions they have drawn about themselves, others, and the world around them.

Where Our Thinking Breaks Down

What is striking is that we already know how to respond to difficulty—just not consistently.

When a child struggles with reading, we do not assume intent. We do not interpret the difficulty as defiance or laziness. Instead, we assess the situation, analyze the underlying issue, and adjust our instructional approach. We treat the struggle as information, and we respond with thoughtful, intentional design.

That same logic rarely carries over to behaviour.

When a child struggles to regulate emotion, follow directions, or engage appropriately with peers, the response often shifts from curiosity to judgment. The question changes from “What skill is missing?” to “What is wrong with this child?” In that shift, the systems thinking we rely on in academic contexts disappears.

Design Thinking as the Missing Link

This is where Ross Greene's work becomes critical. Through his Collaborative and Proactive Solutions (CPS) model, advanced through Lives in the Balance, Greene challenges a deeply embedded assumption in education. His premise is simple but profound: kids do well if they can.

If a child is not doing well, it is not a matter of will—it is a matter of skill. More specifically, it is a matter of lagging skills and unresolved problems.

This is entirely consistent with how we approach academic learning. When a child cannot decode text, we identify the gap and intervene. When a child cannot manage frustration or navigate social situations, however, we are far more likely to interpret the behavior as intentional and respond with a consequence rather than instruction.

The inconsistency is difficult to justify. In one context, we see struggle as a call to teach. In another, we see it as a reason to remove.

What We Actually Control

An important reality often gets lost in these conversations: we cannot control the child, but we have significant control over the environment in which that child is expected to learn.

That environment includes expectations, structures, relationships, instructional approaches, and the ways adults respond in moments of difficulty. In other words, it includes the very conditions that shape whether a student is successful.

Systems thinking helps us recognize patterns and understand how different elements interact. On its own, however, it is not enough. Without corresponding design thinking—without a willingness to adjust the environment in response to what we are seeing—systems thinking becomes little more than observation.

If behavior is information, then it is also an opportunity. It tells us something about the fit between the learner and the environment. Our responsibility is to respond to that information in ways that improve that fit.

This aligns closely with the perspective I explored in an earlier piece on redefining failure. When viewed through a systems lens, failure is not simply a student falling short of a standard; it is an indication that something within the system is not functioning as intended, and therefore requires reflection and adjustment.

Trust and the Conditions for Learning

The importance of relationships in this work cannot be overstated. In The Five Dysfunctions of a Team, Patrick Lencioni identifies the absence of trust as the foundational issue in ineffective teams. The same principle applies in classrooms.

As Nel Noddings reminds us, children will do remarkably complex and even unexpected things, like adding fractions, for adults they trust. Without that trust, the conditions for learning are significantly diminished.

A Necessary Confrontation

This leads to a tension that is not often addressed directly. As educators, we regularly assert that we care about all students. At the same time, our actions can suggest that our care is conditional—extended more readily to students who are compliant, regulated, and easy to teach.

When students challenge those conditions, our willingness to include them is often tested.

It is not uncommon to hear the assertion that addressing behavioral complexity is not the teacher’s role. This raises an important question: if teaching is not about responding to the full range of human needs present in a classroom, then what exactly is the role?

If we define teaching narrowly as content delivery, then the argument for exclusion becomes easier to make. If, however, we understand teaching as the development of human beings within a learning community, then the students who challenge us most are not peripheral to the work—they are central to it.

The Moral Imperative

Michael Fullan describes this as the moral imperative of education. It is not limited to improving academic outcomes; it extends to improving lives. It requires educators to shape environments that support both learning and human development, even when doing so is complex and demanding.

This is not a standard that can be adjusted for convenience. Difficulty does not reduce responsibility.

Rethinking “Back to Basics”

If the profession is genuinely interested in returning to foundational principles, it is worth reconsidering what those principles actually are. They are not limited to content coverage or classroom order. They include the conditions that make learning possible in the first place: connection, trust, understanding, and thoughtful design.

We’re Getting Louder, Not Smarter

How performative outrage and groupthink are reshaping education—and why it matters.

There’s a shift happening in education right now—and it’s not a good one.

What used to be professional frustration has started to harden into something else entirely.

Identity.

Spend any time in online education spaces, and you’ll see it unfold in real time:

• Teachers positioning themselves as the only ones who understand what’s happening in classrooms
• Administrators are painted as disconnected, performative, or incompetent
• System-level decisions reduced to sound bites and outrage
• Complex realities flattened into “common sense” solutions

It’s not just venting anymore.

It’s groupthink.

And it’s being rewarded.

The rise of performative outrage

There’s a new currency in education discourse:

Say something sharp. Make it simple. Make it emotional. Pick a side.

And watch it spread.

The more absolute the take, the more traction it gets.

“Bring back consequences.”
“Ban technology.”
“Go back to basics.”
“Teachers aren’t being listened to.”

These statements feel powerful. But they’re not analysis, they’re reactions, and reactions—especially when amplified at scale—have a way of becoming belief systems.

The lie that’s gaining traction

Let’s say it plainly:

The “admin bad / teacher good” narrative is intellectually lazy.

It collapses an entire profession into opposing camps for the sake of emotional clarity, and it ignores a fundamental truth:

The system being criticized is made up of educators.

Principals are teachers.
Consultants are teachers.
Curriculum leads are teachers.
Student services teams are made up of teachers.

Different roles don’t mean different values; they mean different vantage points.

When we pretend otherwise, we stop engaging professionally—and start reacting tribally.

Consultation is not a democratic free-for-all

Another idea gaining traction:

“If teachers weren’t consulted, the decision is flawed.”

That sounds fair, but it’s also unrealistic.

Public education is not a flat structure. It can’t be. There are layers of responsibility, timelines, legal obligations, and system-wide considerations that require decisions to be made without full consensus every time.

That’s not disrespect. That’s reality.

And when every decision that doesn’t include full consultation is framed as a failure, we create a system where trust erodes faster than any initiative can succeed.

Nostalgia is not pedagogy

“Back to basics” is trending again. It always does when things feel hard, but let’s be honest about what’s being implied:

• More punishment (rebranded as “accountability”)
• Less flexibility
• Less responsiveness to individual needs
• A return to a system that worked better for adults than it did for many kids

Here’s the problem:

None of this is grounded in current, peer-reviewed research as a universal solution. It’s grounded in memory, and memory has a way of editing out the students who didn’t thrive under those conditions.

We know better—and that matters

Modern research hasn’t made education softer. It’s made it more precise.

Frameworks like the Neurosequential Model have helped us understand something critical:

You can’t expect skills from students who haven’t developed the capacity for them yet.

This isn’t theory. It’s neuroscience.

• Regulation precedes cognition
• Development drives behaviour
• Stress impacts access to learning

So when a student struggles, the response isn’t:

How do we tighten control?

It’s:

What’s missing, and how do we build it?

That’s harder work.

It’s also the only work that actually moves the needle.

The real risk: when frustration replaces thinking

This becomes dangerous when enough people repeat the same emotionally charged ideas; they start to feel like the truth.

Not because they’ve been tested, but because they’ve been echoed. That’s how groupthink works. In a profession that should be grounded in evidence, that’s a problem.

Because once frustration becomes identity, you stop questioning it.

You defend it.

This isn’t about silencing teachers

Let’s be clear:

Teachers should speak.
Teachers should advocate.
Teachers should challenge systems.

That’s part of a healthy profession, but advocacy without grounding becomes noise. Noise doesn’t build better schools.

It just makes it harder to hear what actually works.

At eduKARE, the work is not about ideology.

It’s about alignment with what actually helps kids learn and grow:

• Relationship before compliance
• Regulation before expectation
• Skill-building over punishment
• Precision over generalization

Not because it sounds good.

Because it works.

A necessary gut-check

Before we post, share, or double down on the latest viral take, there are questions worth asking-

Is this grounded in evidence?
Or is this just how I feel right now?

Because those are not the same thing. Right now, education doesn’t need louder voices.

It needs clearer thinking.

Frustration without evidence is just noise.

Cultural tales...

It is often said that we should learn from our mistakes. It stands to reason, then, that we should also learn from our successes. Both failure and success carry lessons, but those lessons rarely exist in isolation. They come alive when they are shared.

When we tell our stories of what went wrong, what went right, and of what surprised us along the way, we create vessels for learning that extend far beyond ourselves. Stories allow experience to travel. They give us insight to be carried from one life to another, from one generation to the next. This is what makes storytelling so powerful and so essential. If we became better at telling our stories, and just as importantly, better at listening to them, entirely new possibilities would emerge.

Human history, in all its brilliance and brutality, is built on story. Every act of compassion and every act of harm, every innovation and every collapse, has been shaped by the stories we tell ourselves about who we are, what we belong to, and what matters. Our stories are not history accessories—they are history. To move forward wisely, we must reconnect meaningfully and purposefully with what might be called our “long now” history: an understanding of the past that informs the present and shapes the future with intention.

This requires us to think carefully about how we contextualize our experiences across time. How do we frame our past without being trapped by it? How do we live fully in the present without losing perspective and imagine a future that is informed by wisdom rather than reaction? These are not abstract questions; they are deeply human ones.

Yet, amid the pace of modern life and the relentless pressure to get ahead, many of us have lost touch with our own cultural roots—and with the cultural stories of others. A curious irony emerges here. We are more connected than ever before. Technology places us in constant proximity—physically, socially, and communicatively. We see more of one another, hear more from one another, and have unprecedented access to global perspectives.

And yet, we are simultaneously more distant than ever.

In our quest to define ourselves, to protect our identities, or to carve out a sense of certainty in an increasingly complex world, we have built silos. We curate our circles, filter our feeds, and retreat into spaces that feel familiar and affirming. While this can offer comfort, it also narrows our understanding of the environments in which we find ourselves. Proximity without connection is not the same as a relationship. Exposure without curiosity does not lead to understanding.

In Canada, we often celebrate our multiculturalism—and rightly so. Diversity has long been, and continues to be, a defining strength of our society. But in a globalized world, multiculturalism alone is no longer enough. Different people have always coexisted on this planet. What is required now is a shift toward interculturalism.

Interculturalism moves beyond the idea of simply existing alongside one another. It calls us to engage. Our race, religion, gender, sexual orientation, style, emotional expression, ways of thinking, and lived experiences all contribute to our personal cultures. These elements shape how we see the world and how the world sees us. They connect us to groups while also helping us to be uniquely ourselves.

Agreement is not the prerequisite for understanding. Whether we share the beliefs or perspectives of others is far less important than whether we are willing to learn about them. Tolerance is passive. Acceptance is a starting point. Understanding, however, requires effort, humility, and the right amount of time.

And there is no better way to build understanding than through story.

Stories humanize what might otherwise feel abstract or distant. They invite empathy where judgment might otherwise take hold. When we truly listen to someone’s story, we are reminded that behind every perspective lies a person shaped by their experiences, context, and meaning. In doing so, we learn about others and deepen our understanding of ourselves.

If we are serious about building more connected, compassionate, and resilient communities, we must reclaim storytelling as a shared responsibility. We must make space for unheard voices, histories that have been overlooked, and experiences that challenge our assumptions. Only then can we begin to bridge the distance that modern life has created.

Our stories are not just reflections of who we are. They are tools for who we might become.

Hope in the Hard Places.

HOPE in Action: The Roots of KARE Givers

This is the post that should have come first—because at the heart of KARE Givers is a life lived, a struggle faced, and a decision made: to choose hope not as an idea, but as a commitment to action.

I grew up in a home marked by hardship that most children should never experience. There was violence, addiction, and emotional chaos. And yet, somehow, amid all of it, there were also moments of love—small, fleeting, but powerful enough to plant the seed of something I couldn’t yet name: hope.

A warm hug from my mom, even when everything around us was broken. A quiet nod of approval from my dad after I cleared the driveway of snow just the way he liked. The sunshine on my walk home from school, the smell of summer grass, and the illusion—for a moment—that everything was okay.

These memories weren’t grand, but they were grounding. They gave me a sense of safety, connection, and calm. That’s where hope lived—not as a promise, but as a possibility.

Hope Is More Than a Feeling. It's a Framework.

Today, after more than three decades in education, I can clearly name what I couldn’t back then. HOPE is what sustained me. And it’s what I now work every day to give to others—not just in spirit, but in action. HOPE, for me, stands for:

• Health – Physical, emotional, and relational wellness. Healing from harm and building the strength to move forward.

• Opportunity – Access to spaces where people can grow, discover, and dream again.

• Privilege – Not in the inherited sense, but in the chosen one: the privilege to listen, support, and uplift others with empathy and care.

• Education – Lifelong learning that equips people to understand their past, reclaim their power, and build a better future.

At KARE Givers, hope isn’t passive. It’s a practice. It’s the phone call you make. The lunch you share. The gentle word you offer when someone’s world is falling apart. It’s helping people take their next step, however small, toward stability, healing, and meaning.

Everyone has a Story. Everyone Deserves HOPE.

I can’t rewrite the story I lived. But I can help shape what happens next—for myself and for others. That’s what KARE Givers is for. It’s the living embodiment of hope built from pain. It’s about turning our lived experience into a beacon of hope for someone else who feels lost.

I carry deep empathy for the people in my past. But more than anything, I assume a responsibility moving forward—to take the love I was shown, even imperfectly, and amplify it for others.

If you’re reading this and your story feels heavy or unresolved, know this: HOPE is not beyond you. It is within you, and it can be built through small acts of courage, care, and connection.

KARE Givers exists to help you take action toward hope—every day.

With gratitude,
Sean

Free Will Is Far From Free

"Free Will" (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0) by Headphonaught

“Free will” is a misleading term. We can take action to self-actualize, but detractors and restrictors always impact our decisions and efforts. Everything about us is influenced by the external environment including the interactions we experience with others. Character is something we display on our terms, but the choice is impacted by the sum total of how we think, and those thoughts are based on our experiences. We can't completely manipulate the influences in our lives that control our perspectives and outcomes.

This Next Big Idea podcast, "Free Will: Are We Better Off Without It?" is very thought-provoking regarding who we are and how much that’s determined by our personal desire to be “ourselves”. In his exploration of free will, Robert Sapolsky's work offers a compelling challenge to "personal autonomy". From his teenage years, Sapolsky was captivated by the concept of free will, ultimately concluding that it doesn’t exist. His conclusion is rooted in his background as a biologist, neurologist, and neurosurgeon, where he argues that human behaviour is influenced by a complex web of biological, genetic, and environmental factors, rather than by an independent, autonomous will.

"The world is really screwed up and made much, much more unfair by the fact that we reward people and punish people for things they have no control over  -Robert Sapolsky 

Sapolsky’s stance is not just a theoretical perspective; it’s one that he builds on extensively in his book Determined. He delves into mechanisms like brain chemistry and genetic predispositions, that shape our actions, decisions, and thoughts. According to Sapolsky, the illusion of free will is a product of our brains processing information in a way that makes us feel in control, but, in reality, is created by neural activity.

Moreover, Sapolsky goes beyond the mere negation of free will; he also proposes that recognizing the lack of free will can have profound, positive implications. Understanding that people are shaped by factors beyond their control could lead to a more compassionate and humane society where individuals are judged less harshly for their actions and treated more empathetically when they struggle with behaviours often attributed to "choices."

His perspective ties into larger philosophical and ethical debates about responsibility, punishment, and the nature of consciousness. If we accept that we are not truly in control, Sapolsky suggests, we might build systems more focused on rehabilitation, understanding, and social support, rather than retribution. Considering this, a significant possibility emerges to improve how we approach support for kids in school.

A school of thought is emerging in education and social services prioritizing awareness of the lived experiences of the student, or client. Whether working through trauma-based care in Dr. Bruce Perry's Neurosequential Model, Dr. Ross Greene's Collaborative and Proactive Solutions Model, or my own HOPE Wheel Model; the awareness that we can't effectively support another person without consideration for the environmental influences they've endured is fundamental. Limiting ourselves to the person in front of us and the private logic they express without knowing the story behind their story puts us at a significant disadvantage in helping them at all. We have will, but it's not free from the barriers and determiners of our past. 

Ultimately, Sapolsky’s argument against free will challenges long-standing views on autonomy and moral responsibility and offers a framework for rethinking how we structure society and deal with issues like crime, mental health, and personal development. By recognizing the biological and environmental factors driving behaviour, we can foster a society emphasizing empathy and compassion over judgment and punishment.

Symptom Bearers

"RJ" (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0) by Don J Schulte

An individual assigned as the family “symptom bearer” is used as a scapegoat for anger, wrongdoing, or trouble within the family. Rather than parents and siblings taking a look at their own role in any issues, they deflect and blame it on the IP (Identified Patient) of the family. (Health, 2023)

There's no doubt that teachers are dealing with a high volume of complex realities in their classrooms. They're working hard to serve kids who arrive from environments that may not necessarily offer the appropriate support necessary for them to survive. This is the reality. We can let that consume us, or we can find ways to function more responsively and effectively. 

I'm always looking for a silver lining. It just seems like an objectively intelligent, albeit difficult thing to do. It involves an adjustment of our lens to see things from a different, purposeful perspective. I often say we need to glare at strengths, while glancing at weakness. Individuals who are confronted by  adverse experiences beyond their control, whether they like it or not, acquire intuitive skills that the general population typically may not because they don't have to. They do this out of necessity, likely unconsciously, but that is not to diminish the reality. 

Kids who live traumatic realities tend to develop intuitive skills in order to survive their environments. Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE) are a set of ten identifiable environmental risk factors. 

The Adverse Childhood Experiences, or “ACEs,” quiz asks a series of 10 questions (see below) about common traumatic experiences that occur in early life. Since higher numbers of ACEs often correlate to challenges later in life, including higher risk of certain health problems, the quiz is intended as an indicator of how likely a person might be to face these challenges. (Harvard, 2013)

What’s In the ACEs Quiz?

For each “yes” answer, add 1. The total number at the end is your cumulative number of ACEs.
Before your 18th birthday:

1. Did a parent or other adult in the household often or very often… Swear at you, insult you, put you down, or humiliate you? or Act in a way that made you afraid that you might be physically hurt?
2. Did a parent or other adult in the household often or very often… Push, grab, slap, or throw something at you? or Ever hit you so hard that you had marks or were injured?
3. Did an adult or person at least 5 years older than you ever… Touch or fondle you or have you touch their body in a sexual way? or Attempt or actually have oral, anal, or vaginal intercourse with you?
4. Did you often or very often feel that … No one in your family loved you or thought you were important or special? or Your family didn’t look out for each other, feel close to each other, or support each other?
5. Did you often or very often feel that … You didn’t have enough to eat, had to wear dirty clothes, and had no one to protect you? or Your parents were too drunk or high to take care of you or take you to the doctor if you needed it?
6. Were your parents ever separated or divorced?
7. Was your mother or stepmother:
   Often or very often pushed, grabbed, slapped, or had something thrown at her? or Sometimes, often, or very often kicked, bitten, hit with a fist, or hit with something hard? or Ever repeatedly hit over at least a few minutes or threatened with a gun or knife?
8. Did you live with anyone who was a problem drinker or alcoholic, or who used street drugs?
9. Was a household member depressed or mentally ill, or did a household member attempt suicide?
10. Did a household member go to prison?

*Source: NPR, ACEsTooHigh.com. This ACEs Quiz is a variation on the questions asked in the original ACEs study conducted by CDC researchers. 

The ACEs quiz gives no insight into whether an individual child might be more or less sensitive to adversity and asks no questions about whether there may have been any protective relationships in place to help buffer the child from stress. So the ACEs quiz can only give insight into who might be at risk—not who is at risk—for certain later-life challenges. (Harvard 2013) Fair enough, however, where there's smoke, there's usually fire.

In fact, the ACE Score in any given case is an optic that excludes other possible risk factors opening the possibility that it may underestimate the adversity experienced by any given child. Missing from the assessment are: 

• Stressors outside the household (e.g., violence, poverty, racism, other forms of discrimination, isolation, chaotic environment, lack of services)
• Protective factors (e.g., supportive relationships, community services, skill-building opportunities)
• Individual differences (i.e., not all children who experience multiple ACEs will have poor outcomes and not all children who experience no ACEs will avoid poor outcomes—a high ACEs score is simply an indicator of greater risk) (Harvard 2013)

More recently, the same researchers that developed the ACE protocol realized the added-value of  complimentary research referred to as Positive Childhood Experiences. 

In September 2019, lead researcher Dr. Christina Bethell released the results of a study of 6,188 adults at Johns Hopkins seeking to identify Positive Childhood Experiences (PCEs) that could buffer against the health effects of traumatic ones. A percentage of kids with high ACE scores do nevertheless grow up to have normal development and good adult emotional health. The researchers were looking to identify the factors that created a level of resiliency in these kids that helped them to thrive despite difficult childhoods. (Positive Childhood Experiences (PCEs), n.d.)

A major principle of resiliency research asserts that reducing risk factors is a beneficial action to take on behalf of kids for at-risk environments. It stands to reason that a reciprocal effort to increase protective factors should also be made. This is where PCEs enter the process. We can't always change the conditions of a child's environment away from school, but we can support efforts to help them become antifragile; the ability to navigate, cope, and eventually thrive amidst adversity. Antifragility is a state of malleability in which an individual possesses the ability to bend, but not break so their core coping ability remains stable, albeit modified. People who possess a myriad of protective factors can adapt more routinely as they respond to their environmental condition. 

The PCEs study helps shape research moving in an additional direction: increasing positive childhood experiences to build resilience in kids who have experienced trauma, and those who may in the future. The relationship between PCEs in childhood and good mental health in adults is dose-responsive; the more PCEs a child gets, the better their adult mental health is likely to be. (Positive Childhood Experiences (PCEs), n.d.)

Children with PCEs become adults who are able to seek social and emotional support. The 7 PCEs are:

1. The ability to talk with family about feelings.
2. The sense that family is supportive during difficult times.
3. The enjoyment of participation in community traditions.
4. Feeling a sense of belonging in high school.
5. Feeling supported by friends.
6. Having at least two non-parent adults who genuinely cared.
7. Feeling safe and protected by an adult in the home.  (Positive Childhood Experiences (PCEs), n.d.)

It seems like a simple formula because it is; reduce risk, increase protection. However, and this is a big "however", caring significant others are impacted by the same uncontrolled environmental conditions that the person they care for is. This is a difficult reality. But, and this is a big "but", we do have the ability to completely control the environments we create to support them. The process of determining what that environment looks, sounds and feels like is an effort we must constantly make to authentically create emotionally, socially and psychologically supportive environments away from home and the immediate family reality. 

What's Your Truth?

 

                                            "the truth is..." (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0) by memory_collector

Those of us who work with kids from at-risk environments are challenged by the truths embedded within their trauma. How much we know about the conditions of their lives is dependent on many things, not the least of which are the protocols surrounding the appropriate disclosure of the always sensitive details. Who needs to know? Can those who perhaps want to know impactful details about the kids they work with handle the emotions surrounding the circumstances? Are there those who won't benefit from knowing these details but insist on not being kept out of the loop? 

There appears to be a fairly aggressive desire to know as "much as we can" about the kids we work with, but what if we're focusing on the wrong truths? I'm the first person to assert that we need to know as much as we can about the "story behind the story" of the kids and families we serve, but when circumstances prevent us from knowing as much as we'd hope to, I think we can totally divine a simpler construct in support our most vulnerable clients. In the very simplest of terms, there's only one truth we absolutely need to implicitly know in order to do our best work with kids from at-risk environments... our own.

I have often been involved in difficult conversations regarding the "need to know." At times when it has been necessary to disclose confidential information about a child's personal circumstances, I will typically hear teachers and other school personnel make statements like, "If I had known more about this child, I would have changed the way I interacted with him," to which I typically ask two questions in reply... why and how? 

There's one thing we implicitly need to know about kids surviving adverse childhood experiences; our personal truth in the way we feel about supporting kids no matter the type of environment they arrive from every day. Call it a philosophy, a perspective, or whatever you'd like, but the way we perceive our role as kare-givers (caring for kids from at-risk environments,) is the most important awareness we need to be clear about and one that we can never go wrong with if it emerges from the right perspective. The first part of this truth is that we can never, ever judge a child. I often find that this judgement, when it does happen, is grounded in incorrect assumptions about the child; that the behaviour they're communicating with is intentional or premeditated. It's not.

This inaccurate judgement often also manifests in damaging language (verbal and body) that gets communicated back toward the child. We act out what we're feeling, even when we don't realize we're doing it. When we feel that kids are intentional in being "bad," the tendency to take their perceived actions personally is heightened. Our best work cannot materialize when we believe kids are coming to school with deliberate intent to make our day, and their classmate's days as miserable as possible.

Kids know much more about who they're dealing with than we know about them. I often say kids are like horses; they pick up on our nuances and impressions toward them so much more skillfully than we can toward them just like a horse can feel his rider through the saddle better than the rider can feel the horse. This reality puts both the horse, and the child, at a distinct advantage with respect to the ways they respond to our actions, feelings, and words directed toward them. Kids know when we're not at ease dealing with them.

If all of us who work with kids could empathetically approach each of them with kindness and acceptance perhaps we can get by without the advantage of knowing about where they come from. We'd be expressing nothing toward them that necessarily needed to be reacted to. We would be tapping into what good solution-focused therapists know about effectively working with their clients; that you don't need to dwell on the problems to effectively set goals toward the solutions. We should harbor no animosity toward others for not disclosing details about kids we don't need to know. We could simply feel what we should feel about our role as educators; privileged and humbled to have the opportunity to support them from wherever they arrive each and every day. Defaulting to that presents very good odds that we'll build the trust and comfort necessary for kids arriving from at-risk environments not to be at risk within our classroom environments too. 

My Fathers

"F.A.T.H.E.R." (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0) by timothymeaney

January 25 was the one-year anniversary of my father-in-law's passing. Krishan Syal was a good man and one of my fathers. I miss him profoundly. I wrote this for him after he died. If I could, I would like to talk to him about what I'm going to write here. We had so many conversations about important things like this. Kris was one of the most authentic men I have had the privilege to know. He cared for me, respected me, and shared what he knew. He was a mentor and a friend. He was a father at a time when fatherhood is increasingly difficult to define. We need a new definition of what it means to be a father in the world today.

I'm reading "Of Boys And Men" by Richard V. Reeves. The book is an exploration of why the modern male is struggling, why it matters, and what we can do about that. The book addresses many elements of the male experience, and fatherhood is a prominent theme. A quote from the book stuck out for me,

A man who is integrated into a community through a role in a family, spanning generations into the past and future, will be more consistently and durably tied to the social order than a man responding chiefly to a charismatic leader, a demagogue, or a grandiose ideaology of patriotism." 

- George Gilder, 1973

When I read the words "charismatic leader," "demagogue" and "grandiose ideology," I don't need to think very hard to provide many contemporary examples of each one of these types of men. These are men who are lost in their perception of masculinity. They believe that to be strong, others must be weak. They possess insecurity and fear without knowing how to be humble and authentic. Locked in a zeitgeist of days gone by, they are confused about their place in a society that no longer fears them, and can no longer be controlled by them. They deny the true nature of their emotions masking them with anger and aggression. This is a diminished state of manhood that cannot be sustained. To say that our next evolutionary step forward for humanity depends on the formulation of a new definition of fatherhood is no exaggeration. 

Read the Room...

Schools are filled with all kinds of rooms. 

Classrooms, offices, gyms, libraries, music rooms, computer and science labs, and more. The latest to emerge, and potentially the greatest of them all, is what many are calling the "Support Room." But what is a support room?

That depends largely on who you ask.

I have heard many definitions of what a support room is, but I haven't heard many definitions of what one isn't. It appears that a support room by any other name is potentially referred to as the "Sensory Room, the Calming Room, the Body Break Room, the Self-Regulation Room, the Regulation Room, and a few more. I suppose it doesn't really matter what we call these rooms if they satisfy the general purpose they're intended for... to support the needs of students who are having trouble coping in a typical classroom. 

A functional support room is simply a place in a school where kids can go to receive the added support required for any reason. In order to do this effectively, some conditions need to be established before any student actually goes to a support room. The last thing we want is the same school we always had, but now with a room full of expensive furniture, resources, and equipment added to it without the requisite thought required to make it an effective place where foundational learning relationships can be established. The environment of an effective support room starts with the rationale for it to exist in the first place, (to support the needs of students,) and extends from that base in several necessary directions. My view on how this needs to be structured is listed in rank order below; the three P's:

1. People. An effective support room MUST have the right kind of people operating them. There is no alternative. If you can't find the right people, or you can't effectively train people already within your organization, don't bother creating a support room.
2. Perspective. A support room CANNOT be another name for the "office," or any other place where challenging kids are sent to get them out of the classroom. I get it, the challenges kids present to teachers are increasingly difficult to accept and deal with, however, the manner in which we support our most vulnerable students is the measure of how effective we are as caring teachers and others who work in schools.
3. Plan. Fail to plan, plan to fail... an effective support room NEEDS a system, a process, and a philosophy if it's going to actually do what is intended. The system should be based on sound research, solid pedagogy, and the principles of kindness and care that all who work with kids are governed by. 

The "Looking Glass" Classroom

 

"Alice through the Looking Glass - Guild" (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0) by stuartcreasey

“If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?”
― Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland / Through the Looking-Glass

The Looking Glass, as it were, is a curious metaphor to explain a young child's perception of the realities of school. Traditionally, the school has been a tool of social engineering, a place to stratify kids according to ability and how well they fit the construct of school, an institution that varied little from one to another. The school was a place that attempted to homogenize its subjects according to a rigid set of educational and social norms that suited many, but not all. Have schools changed much in this regard? One would surely hope, but I'm saddened to say that I do still occasionally observe the opposite.

Ableism... What Teachers Say and Think Matter

Ableism - NCCJ. (n.d.). Www.nccj.org. https://www.nccj.org/ableism

a·ble·ism

/ˈābəˌlizəm/

noun

1. discrimination in favor of able-bodied people.

There are few, if any, topics in education that impact our ability to serve students in optimized, effective, and appropriate ways than that of ableism. Ableism is the intentional or unintentional discrimination or oppression of individuals with disabilities. (Ableism - NCCJ, n.d.) 

Reading the definition of ableism above elicits thoughts of "why would anyone involved teaching discriminate or oppress already marginalized students?" It's a harsh definition describing an illogical occurrence, but nonetheless, one that happens quite routinely if we're being honest with ourselves. 

(whatisableism)

Everyone Here Has Been Broken

"Everyone here has been broken" (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0) by howard.hall          

If we could understand the nuances of empathy, often the missing link in ignorance and conflict, the world would truly be a better place for all.

We talk about personal space all the time. We commonly understand that invading one's personal space is a not-so-good thing to do. As with many things we say because we've always said them, I'm not sure we really understand what we're asking of ourselves when we commit to giving each other our 'space.' Perhaps we don't even understand what we're asking ourselves not to do. 

How well do we understand what we're referring to as our "space?" I'm not sure.

A thought experiment...

Let's say that in the context of human interactions we can identify C waves (connoting cognitive interactions,) E waves, (connoting emotional interactions,) and P waves, (connoting physical interactions.) To simplify cognitive waves can be described as any form of understanding, while E and P waves are variables that affect our ability to understand. In other words, how we feel about our learning, and the environment we learn within, are pivotal elements that determine largely how well we actually learn in the cognitive domain. Since Descartes we've generally accepted that C waves were the independent variable, but what if in fact E and P waves create authentic constraints; challenges to our ability to comprehend and fully understand the phenomenological realities, our environments, and the people we encounter within them?

Bring Your own Argument

"Bring your own argument" (CC BY-SA 2.0) by quinn.anya

We have a pandemic problem with dialog.

People state opinions as absolute facts, and they argue facts emotionally as if they were opinions.

We need a new set of rules around dialog, a new paradigm.

Perhaps if both sides of a dialectic conversation where facts are questioned and opinions are conflicting were to step back from their side to critically analyze what is "right" about the other side's facts, and what of their opinions can be agreed upon, a newly articulated and stronger position could be assumed in the debate. It would also undoubtedly be one that would be more readily accepted by the "other side" owing to the fact that much of the newly assumed position would have originated there.

In my experience personally and professionally I have witnessed dialog turn completely toxic so many times owing to unsophisticated thinking regarding the other side. What, in nearly every case should have been a generative and collaborative discussion with a singular and purposeful agenda to "win" the issue as opposed to "win" the argument, turns into a complete deviation from that. The righteous agenda to discuss an issue purposefully with the intent to improve the reality of the issue being discussed is completely lost at that point.

We're living in a world that is advancing faster than our ability to keep up. We're forced to deal with complex problems revolving around evolution and progress a lot these days. Oftentimes when we come up with something brilliant, it appears to create a cascade of unforeseen challenges that we didn't anticipate. The inception of smart phones and how using them correlated with a sharp increase in mental health and social problems among users is a simple and obvious example.

 

Get out of the box!

I read "Leadership and Self-Deception, Getting Outside of the Box" several years ago in graduate school and was delighted at the premise it supposed. An editorial note for the book states,

The "disease" of self-deception (acting in ways contrary to what one knows is right) underlies all leadership problems in today's organizations, according to the premise of this work. However well-intentioned they may be, leaders who deceive themselves always end up undermining their own performance. This straightforward book explains how leaders can discover their own self-deceptions and learn how to escape destructive patterns. The authors demonstrate that breaking out of these patterns leads to improved teamwork, commitment, trust, communication, motivation, and leadership.

 

When I read the book, my mind went to the idea of relativism. Relativism can indicate that anything is righteous and good, as long as we simply say so after creating some form of rationalization for believing so. As a form of existentialism, a relativistic perspective in leadership often translates as the leader making decisions based on a compromised set of values and beliefs. Leadership relativism is particularly damaging simply because leaders lead... and those who follow will undoubtedly be affected by all decisions of the leader; good or bad. Existentialism is the opponent of an organization's values-driven decision-making paradigm. 

ex·is·ten·tial·ism

Learn to pronounce

noun

1. a philosophical theory or approach which emphasizes the existence of the individual person as a free and responsible agent determining their own development through acts of the will.

2. Definitions from Oxford Languages

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The existential principle that people should have unilateral control over their choices and actions has become a troubling contemporary issue in society. On the surface, the belief that society should not restrict an individual's life or actions owing to the tenet that these restrictions inhibit free will and the development of that person's potential can be perceived as a positive concept. Who wouldn't want to have total control over the feelings, actions, and words one chooses to share with the world?

However, herein lies the problem.