If You Believe It, You'll See It

flickr CC image via Cessna 206

Perspective is everything. The lens we look through is the difference between success and failure, courage and fear, positive and negative... the difference between everything as we see it with our own eyes, minds and feelings.

"I'll believe it when I see it" is such a common statement we make. What if we adjusted the statement to say "I'll see it because I believe it?" I'm not so naive to think that we can will things into being simply by believing in them, but can it hurt? Dewitt Jones (...watch the video preview), the acclaimed National Geographic photographer and world-renowned speaker is on to something with this concept. Just like I'll believe it when I see it,  perhaps believe it and then you'll see it will become cliche, but if so, it will be because the wisdom of this point of view is so timeless and true that we'll become desensitized to the message. How can something so simple be meaningful, right? Wrong... we need to heed simple maxims like this one because they help us boil things down to their purest form- the place where clear perspective comes from.

The odds that something we desire will happen increase exponentially when we can picture that desire in our minds; envision it happening... how it will look, sound and feel once realized. We should all take a serious look at how we perceive what we want before it happens.

I think what we want will then begin to happen more often.

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Opinions vs. Facts- Use Your Words Wisely

flickr CC image via Gabi Agu

When primary school teachers are working with kids who have trouble expressing themselves verbally, they often direct them to "use their words." Some kids just have difficulty vocalizing what they're feeling, and I'm not sure simply telling then to use their words helps. Perhaps posing questions like "are you trying to say that...", and then modeling an answer for them to restate would be a better strategy. Sometimes I feel like I should be using this strategy to help my colleagues appropriately say what they want to say.

I have said that silence can do many things; so can words. Two fatal mistakes teachers make when discussing any of the infinite issues we seem to want to perpetually discuss (sometimes at the expense of simply looking for a solution,) is to state opinions as facts, and so-called facts as absolute truth. What we say can be very damaging to our professionalism, our image and the amount of respect we receive from those we serve.

Of course the tendency to confuse facts and opinions is not limited to teachers, but it's particularly damaging to teachers. We don't enjoy a tremendous amount of respect as a profession, and when we spout off without any context, knowledge or experience to back up our position, we look very unprofessional. In another context, the realm of education is constantly changing, (not quickly enough for some) and if teachers aren't speaking about this change in an engaging, professional and solution-focused manner, we also look foolish. How can we adjust our tendencies when we speak about what we do to more accurately reflect what we want to say and how we need to say it?

Three simple words can do wonders for us... "in my opinion." When discussing pedagogical issues with colleagues, and even more importantly with those outside our profession, it would behoove teachers to qualify their subjective statements with these three words. As simple as it sounds, it's very unproductive to argue opinions as they often originate from emotional thoughts, and as such are difficult if not impossible to change, so why even try? Opinions, although varied, do not have to be agreed upon to move an issue forward. I have suggested that 'hybrid thinking' is an appropriate and effective strategy to achieve this purpose.  In another post about hybrid thinking, I said that,

the integrative mind understands that within the current change climate we find ourselves immersed in, our viability as a global society will depend on a synthesis of ideas that should not be considered dichotomous, but rather complementary to one another. In the context of supporting effective child development, this form of hybrid thinking will ensure that we don't miss the boat on any developing idea's potential.

The essence of this form of interaction is to let go of dichotomous and conflicting positions during debate, and instead look to the opposing side for positions you can live with, and that may synchronize with your ideas in some manner or form.  It works.

The flip side of stating opinions directly and clearly so there's no confusion, is to state facts with authority and confidence that they can be verified and supported with proof. Citing sound scientific research behind the fact, or using anecdotal, qualitative data to support your facts are professional practices that some of us fail to emphasize when stating so-called facts. Of course, all research is open to academic scrutiny, but that's OK... this academic environment of formal debate around quantitative and qualitative measures is very professional, and teachers need to put themselves in this environment. There are far too many unchallenged practices out there in teacher land, and we suffer from this pseudo-professional tendency to latch on to the 'latest and greatest' educational trends just because a politician, publisher or creator of educational resources says they are effective. We must stop doing this, and line our purpose with a larger degree of scrutiny surrounding our pedagogy.

So, state opinions as such to avoid pointless conflict, and when you know what you know because you've done your homework through research and qualitative efforts, don't be shy to state facts either. Teachers are the most well-positioned to tip education reform, and to keep tipping it on the cutting edge of progress... but we need to responsibly look, feel and sound the part.

Beliefs- Goals are Great, But Not at the Expense of the Journey

flickr CC image via Marit & Toomas Hinnosaar

I must not be very successful because I'm going to drop a name. Nassim Nicholas is my favorite tweeter. I read his book, The Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable acouple of years ago, and am part way through Fooled by Randomness, a follow-up of sorts to Black Swan. Taleb is a thinker, and in the books he debunks many commonly held myths about probability, chance and the models we think studying these entities enable us to predict.

Taleb is one of the most brilliant I have had the pleasure of reading, and he occasionally tweets pearls of introspective wisdom. Yesterday he said, "the opposite of success isn't failure, it is name dropping...There are no objective definitions of failure; success, there are for ..." Once again, Nassim Taleb is speaking to me.

I have said before that I don't believe in failure, only relative degrees of success. We have such skewed perspectives toward success in society. How we view success in schools is no different. How we measure success in society and in school is juxtapositioned against a set of subjectively defined goals that somehow have come to be known as success, once attained. Material good, money, a great job... these are commonly regarded examples of success in society, (at least western society, that is.) In school we measure success by different goals, but goals none the less. Good grades, a diploma, a degree... these are commonly regarded examples of success in school, (at least once again, in our western education system.) These goals are largely absolute and uninterpretable... you have either attained them, or you haven't. They aren't measured on a spectrum, but rather in a have/have not (pass/fail) context. I believe this is very wrong and unproductive in the context of goal achievement and learning.

I find it our human tendency to be so happy, relieved and satisfied when we've reached a goal that in that fleeting moment, we forget about the important journey we took to get there. All the work, stress, effort and commitment applied toward the goal is unceremoniously put aside to revel in the success of reaching the goal, and then very quickly to decide what the next one will be. There's something wrong about this, in my opinion. Goal attainment in life, and as part of learning is a journey, one that should be enjoyed mindfully and deliberately. When we measure goal attainment and learning by pass/fail standards, this process is not possible. I believe that goals are righteous ends to means, but enjoying the journey in pursuit of the goal leads to exponentially greater amounts of knowledge, insight, and contentment once the destination is reached.

There are relative degrees of success, and as quickly as we can realize this, the better off we're all going to be. Like wanna-be pseudo-successful people tend to 'name-drop' as Taleb suggests, teachers who are pseudo-successful at connecting with students in relative ways tend to divert to other scales measuring their "success." In lieu of measuring tangible learning at requisite levels for each individual student, teachers look instead to levels that reflect the mean, and simply place students on this scale where they subjectively think they fit. I have yet to witness a teachers using letter grades that doesn't correlate the letters to percentile ranks within the class, so even letter grades can be curvable. Kids who get placed on the high-end are considered successful, and everyone else falls somewhere below that. I don't think this is OK.

Let's not stop working toward goals; let's stop beating kids up over how relatively well they've reached them. Here's a proposal archived at Personal Learning Stories, a post I wrote with some ideas to create a more student-centered learning process that reflects the thirteen year learning journey in more organic and fluid ways.

I'm sure you also have ideas; I'd love to hear them.

Open Source Hardware?

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So we have a litany of open source software in cyberspace, when will the connected youth of today enjoy open source hardware as part of their education?

The open source concept is brilliant. Open systems in general appear to be winning the day in so many social contexts, and open source software has changed the education system drastically for those who choose to access it. A standing position in my teaching circle is if you're paying for software at all, you're paying too much. I'm wondering why open source software has caught on so widely, but open source hardware hasn't. To me the two are natural partners.

As Moore's Law goes, anything in the software world would be considered yesterday's tool practically as soon as it is introduced... before new software gets wide-spread recognition, developers are taking advantage of exponentially-expanding digital capacity and already working on something better, faster and more enticing to the consumer. Exponential growth in digital capacity fuels the software marketplace for sure, but it also fuels the hardware sector. As digital capacity increases at a faster and faster pace, today's hardware is quickly replaced by something better, faster and more enticing to the consumer also.

So where do the laptops, cell phones, e-readers, etc. go after a year or so when consumers have replaced them with the latest improved tool? Other than being recycled for parts, or in a drawer or closet to be forgotten, I'm not sure I know. What if the same huge software companies that work so hard to create better tech tools and applications understood that perhaps the largest potential market research sector they could be exposed to is short on hardware needed to use the software in question. Kids in schools are often wanting for relatively up-to-date hardware tools, and six months old would be more than current to them compared to the five and six year old computers they commonly are limited to as a result of budget constraints. If huge-scale software firms got into the recycling business, they could put their software in the hands of students who had something to use it on. Isn't that a win-win situation?

Let's take Google for example; if Google were to create a recycling protocol for those wishing to donate their old laptop, cell phone or whatever to them for reconditioning and installation of whatever Google software could be loaded onto them, and then donated these devices to schools under a partnership agreement that the schools would use their software exclusively with the expectation that feedback would be provided to improve it, I would be jumping over other teachers to sign up for that program... schools get their hardware and the software applications it enables, and Google would get real-time feedback from perhaps the largest cohort of connected technology users on the planet so they can continue to improve their products more efficiently and pragmatically.

What do you think?

Silence is many things...

flickr CC image via Brett Jordan

Silence can be a virtue or a curse, a tool or a weapon and a hindrance or an enabler. I'm either annoyed or fascinated by silence; it all depends on the person being silent.

Nassim Nicholas Taleb, (@nntaleb- a pretty damn sharp guy...) tweeted today about silence. He first said, "usually, what we call (a) 'good listener' is someone with skillfully polished indifference"... and then revised the statement to restate, "some reticent people use silence to conceal their intelligence; but most do so to hide the lack of it." This got me thinking for sure.

In education, there is no shortage of playing "the game"; people saying what they believe will get them what they want or allow them to avoid what they don't want, and refraining from what they should say in attempting to avoid scrutiny or punishment. Nobody within education is immune to the politics that surround everything we do, (I would assert that everything, period, is political... why would teachers think they are immune to this?) Choosing when to speak, and when to remain silent is an art in and of itself, and definitely worth constant consideration and practice.

Taleb firstly equates silence to listening with his original statement suggesting indifference on the part of a silent (good) listener. I know many who are highly skilled at appearing intrigued and engaged as they listen to what others are saying, (usually at the same time they are really just thinking about what they are going to say next.) Taleb's revised statement characterizes silence as a tool used either to hide one's intelligence, or conversely, a lack of it... kind of the opposite of the "if you can't dazzle people with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit" saying. The theme I'm taking away from Taleb's statements, (and he is a regular producer of useful and thought-provoking aphorisms,) is that silence can be many things.

I have said before that teachers need to find their voice in education, so why am I talking about silence? I'm talking about silence because it's the silence that balances the voice.

Teachers need to learn how to pick their spots so to speak; to choose their hills to die on before they jump into the fray and say too much. Teachers need to get informed and aware of current issues and ideas within education before they speak. That's just the way smart people operate. If you're not ready to be one of these smart teachers, please don't speak.

On the other hand, there are highly intellectual and insightful teachers who for whatever reason, are reserved when they should be bold. These teachers who know need to step up and lead us forward confidently and capably. For these latent, would-be educational leaders, (and especially for those that need their leadership,) silence is a curse.

Within an interpersonal context, silence can be a tool or a weapon. Really strong leaders, (and all teachers are called on to lead at some point- even if that leadership never leaves the context of their classroom- teachers lead students,) use silence as a tool when they need to divert negativity, aggression or innuendo. One strategy I like to use involving silence when teachers, parents or students come to me with a huge problem, (problems are always huge to the people experiencing them,) is to ask them after they've let me have it about their concern, how long it took them to articulate what they were bringing to me, and what they wanted me to do about it. When they answer me with whatever time they come up with, I tell them that I will respond to their issue or request for action after I've thought about it for the equal amount of time. It's interesting that by the time this period has passed, much of the stress of the original problem seems to have passed too. In this case, silence is an enabler... sometimes people just need to be heard and not spoken to.

As a weapon, silence can be particularly effective, but not necessarily in a positive way. Just as all teachers are occasional leaders, they also occasionally need to be led; that's just the way it is. When managers of education have an axe to grind and leave people hanging out there in the ether without direction to illuminate their inadequacy; this is not good. I submit that silence as a tool is much more appropriate than when used as a weapon. It's in this context that silence is always a hindrance to collaboration, progress and solution-focused processes.

So whether I'm annoyed or fascinated with silence really boils down to the question of leadership in education, and how effective educational leaders are regarding their choice to use it. Some are pretty good at it... some not so much.

I get annoyed when uninformed people blabber on without any substance to what they are saying, and fascinated by those among us that have an uncanny ability to pick their spots.

I am fascinated by those who pull silence out of their strategic toolbox when they need to enable others, but get very annoyed by those who use silence as a weapon to demean, belittle or just put people in their proverbial place.

Have you thought about how you use silence lately?