Rethinking Education at TEDxWestVancouverED

How do we prepare our students for a future that is largely unimaginable? What essential qualities will they need in order to propel our society forward? What do educators require in order to be able to take up the challenge put forth by grade 7 student Gia Da Roza, to provide an "extraordinary education"? Well, when it comes to "Rethinking Education" what I discovered is that there are more questions than answers. But here's the good news. That's ok. Because what I also discovered is that as educators, we don't need to have all of the answers. And I must admit, that's a bit of a relief.

In the same way that Australian educator Kath Murdoch encourages us to create a classroom climate in which students are "comfortable with uncertainty", as educators, we must also learn to become comfortable with uncertainty. And that is a challenge. Because you see, many of us grew up in a traditionally structured educational system, where not knowing the answer was a bad thing. And questioning our teachers was viewed as disrespectful and disruptive. 

Gia challenges educators to provide an "extraordinary education" for our students. No pressure there!

But here's more good news. We're not in this thing alone. We have partners. Because "Rethinking Education" requires a shift that propels learning out from behind the desk, and into the world beyond the classroom. It requires input from community leaders and entrepreneurs, from doctors and authors, from athletes and scientists, from politicians and parents. And it requires input from our students. As Adora Svitak emphasized in her TED talk, "learning between between grown ups and kids should be reciprocal". Who better to help us chart a path towards a future that is largely unimaginable than the individuals who will be an integral part of that future?

"Rethinking Education" requires us to continue to move away from an educational system that valued facts over creativity, and obedience over innovation. We need to continue to value the voices of our students. We need to encourage questioning and wonder. And then, we need to listen. Because if we listen, our students might just tell us what they need. And they don't need us to have all of the answers. As TEDx speaker, Silken Laumann so insightfully stated, our students don't care about what we know, they care that we care.  And after listening to the powerful, inspiring and passionate speakers at TEDxWestVancouverED today, and having an opportunity to speak with many of the equally passionate educators who attended, without a doubt, we do.

       

          

Just Breathe

       

Prana. Life Force.

          Breathe. But don't just breathe, breathe deeply. This was my homework for today. My yoga teacher told us to tell someone to breathe today. Inwardly, I cringed. Moving through my day telling people to "breathe" most likely wouldn't be received with the warmest of receptions, and so I thought perhaps I should provide some context.
          In yoga, breathing is everything. In Sanskrit, it's called prana, the word for life force. But even though our breathe is a life sustaining force, we generally pay very little attention to it. Often, individuals who are under stress, feeling anxious, and/or experiencing trauma tend to take shallow, quick breathes. But breathing deeply releases tension, detoxifies our body, relieves pain, and supplies much needed oxygen to our cells. During cold and flu season, breathing deeply also helps to increase circulation of lymphatic fluid, which is an important component of our immune system.
          On the wall of my yoga studio is the word "Breathe". I even have several articles of clothing with this same message. Because even after practising yoga for several years, I still need this daily reminder. Just breathe.

I need a daily reminder- breathe.

          Tomorrow we are all going "back to school" in BC. Already on Friday I had a grade 12 student come to me, anxious that they are already "behind" before we have even started. Grade 8s are anxious to get themselves situated in a large school with many new faces. Teachers are anxious to set up classrooms, plan lessons and prepare for an influx of students. Administrators are anxious to ease the transition for staff and students back into school and re-establish routines. We are all excited, and eager to finally be able to catapult ourselves into a new school year. But we are all also just a bit anxious.
          So, at the risk of being met with some eye rolling and snorts of disbelief, take a moment this week to remind yourselves, to remind your students, to breathe. We will all get where we need to be, by the time we need to be there. All we can do is our best. Just breathe.
       

What if the Answer Was Always, "Yes"?

          What if every time a student, parent or staff member had a suggestion, the answer was always a resounding "yes"? That is the "default answer" that principal Peter Hutton of Templestowe College in Australia gives when he is approached by members of his school community.

          Last week, I came across a tweet posted by Kath Murdoch (@kjinquiry), a teacher, author, educational consultant and university lecturer from Australia who works in the field of inquiry based learning and integrative curriculum. She is also one of the featured speakers at the upcoming #TedxWestVancouverEd conference on September 27th. http://www.tedxwestvancouvered.com

Murdoch's tweet referenced an article showcasing some of the innovations that are occurring at Templestowe College, in Australia. 

http://www.theage.com.au/victoria/templestowe-school-in-a-class-of-its-own-20140906-10c6tp.html

          What initially piqued my interest, was a reference to "multi-aged" learning. Recently, I participated in an impromptu Twitter discussion between myself and several colleagues, sparked by Jim Lamond (JLamond36) and Bal Ranu (@BalRanu), administrators in the Surrey school district, who were exploring the topic of differentiated instruction. As often occurs during these impromptu discussions, our conversation evolved, and at one point, the concept of multi-aged instruction was introduced. At Templestowe College, in addition to encouraging students to develop and personalize their own curriculum, students are grouped not by age level, but by interest and ability. In the article, Hutton notes that by next year, "the college will abolish year levels. From the end of their first year at the school students will study at whatever level is appropriate for them. There are no compulsory subjects after year 7, and students choose their course from more than 120 elective subjects." Additionally, in his "Principal's Message", Hutton comments that the school has "deliberately removed many of the restrictions that 'traditional' schools place on students, such as year level structures, single age classes and authoritarian hierarchy structures".  http://www.templestowec.vic.edu.au/default.aspx Interestingly, Templestowe does have a uniform policy. I'm also wondering how the "appropriate" level for students is determined.
          But what ultimately struck me was this concept of "yes" as the "default answer". Hutton does qualify his "yes rule" somewhat by noting that there may be exceptions if a suggestion might "take too much time, too much money or negatively impact someone else". But with over 120 elective courses offered, and an opportunity for students to "make up their own subject", I get the sense that this is a relatively rare occurrence.
         Is this what is ultimately necessary for true innovation to occur in our schools? What if all of our district and school leaders adopted a "yes as the default answer" approach?

       

       
       

Learning Their Stories

       

A sea of unfamiliar faces, each with their own "story".

          Typically, today I would be standing in front of a sea of slightly groggy faces. Some familiar, but likely a good portion of unfamiliar ones as well. After 17 years as an educator, this moment still fills me with some anxiety. Not because I'm not thrilled to start a new school year, but because I know that each and every one of those unfamiliar faces has a "story" behind it, and that the longer it takes me to learn that story, the less effective I will be as an educator. At the high school level, that could mean roughly 100 "stories" to learn, as quickly and as effectively as I can. No small task.

          Each of us, adult or child, comes with a story or context that informs our behaviour and our actions. Unfortunately, given the hectic pace of daily life, we are often too busy, or sometimes unavoidably immersed in our own stories to have the time, that most valuable of commodities, to look beyond the surface. Recently a friend of mine had a bit of a run in with another driver. With her children in the car, my friend was angry that this "reckless, irresponsible" driver (my words- she used slightly different ones) would endanger her children. Completely understandable. Like so often happens in this digital age, my friend happened to vent her frustration in a semi-public forum, and through this it was discovered that the "reckless" driver had in fact just lost a treasured family pet that morning, and was having a very difficult day. This was her story, her context. I'm not suggesting that my friend could have taken the time in that moment to discover this, and regardless, her children's safety was her utmost concern. What I am suggesting is that we approach every individual that we come across in our day, adult or child, with the understanding that they each have a story, and that on any given day this context may inform their seemingly inexplicable behaviour or actions. 

          With my students, it takes time, and a great deal of concerted effort to learn their stories. And each member of our school community might be privileged to learn different aspects of this story- counselors, administrators, clerical and janitorial staff, support staff... and the list goes on. Together, we comprise a community of caring, supportive adults that are all working to do the best that we can for our students. (See "The Heart of a School" http://www.teachergarr.blogspot.ca/2014/04/the-heart-of-school.html) This is exactly why open and effective communication in a school community is so essential. Yes, our students trust that some of the information that they share with us will be kept confidential, and we are governed by a professional code of conduct, but in other instances, it is vital that we are able to rely on our colleagues to help us learn each of our students' stories. Our job is not simply to fill empty vessels with facts and figures, but to recognize that they are entering our schools already "filled" with unique, and sometimes, unfortunately, very difficult stories. 

          My most treasured time of the school year is that moment when I feel like I can finally look out at that sea of faces, and they are no longer unfamiliar. They are faces that have been shaped by countless unique and diverse experiences. They are faces that will be further shaped by their experiences in their classrooms, and in their school community. 

What a responsibility. What a privilege. 

Here's To a "Sweet" Year

          My new year doesn't begin on January 1st. I'm not really one to make New Year's resolutions and as an early riser, staying up until midnight is pretty much a Herculean task. For me, my new year has always started in September. Amidst the deluge of "back to school" commercials, as the days begin to shorten, and the evenings become crisper, it is during this time that I typically set my intentions and goals for the coming "year". And it's not only as an educator that I associate September with new beginnings. Rosh Hashanah, commonly referred to as Jewish New Years, also occurs in September. Growing up with an Irish Catholic mother, and a Jewish father, I've been fortunate to experience a wide range of holidays and traditions. I don't think I'll offend either branch of the family when I say that at their core, they both incorporate the same essential elements: food, family, and of course, a healthy dose of guilt!

          For me, Rosh Hashanah is primarily a time of reflection. It is an opportunity to examine past *mistakes, to make amends, and to learn and grow from these mistakes in order to do better in the coming year. To ensure a "sweet" new year, we eat apples dipped in honey (fortunately, amongst his many other professions, my dad is also a beekeeper), and challah, a braided sweet bread that on Rosh Hashanah is rolled into a circular shape to symbolize the cycle of the year. In my family, after we eat, we take turns going around the table, sharing something from the previous year that we are thankful for. To be honest, some years this is more difficult than others. But ultimately, whether it is a new job, renewed health, or a new bicycle, we each take a moment to express our gratitude. 

A variety of honey to choose from. Courtesy of Allen Garr apiaries!

          Fortunately, my blog serves as a helpful reminder of the past year. As I have commented in previous posts, it was one of challenges and opportunities. For me, the two typically go hand in hand. This year, my professional and personal goals are intermixed:

- To listen more and speak less.

- To move through each day with patience and gratitude.

- To recognize and support the emerging talents and skills of those around me.

          And so, with September only a week away, I wish everyone a happy new year! May it be one that is filled with much sweetness and joy. 

*For an interesting perspective, check out the NPR Ted Radio program- Making Mistakes

                    

Going It Alone

          So, I have a confession to make. I'm a bit of a loner. I like to hike alone, I like to bike alone, and I like to spend a great deal of time, on my own. And so why is this a bit of a confession? Because I am also a passionate proponent of collaboration and connectivity. As department leader of Learning Partners, a program that facilitates and supports peer-mentoring, inter-departmental collaboration and teacher inquiry, I have experienced first hand the amazingly powerful impact that connecting to, and being supported by ones peers and extending professional learning outside of the classroom can have on growth and innovation. As an educator, I truly believe that our greatest resource is each other.  And so how do I reconcile my personal preference for solitary pursuits with what I also know to be true-- that amazing learning and growth often results from collaborative endeavours.

View from the handle bars!

          I've spent some time reflecting on why it is that I prefer to hike on my own. I'll begin by saying that many of my family and friends are a bit horrified by my weekly solo treks into the woods, especially when I return with a few scrapes and bruises resulting from a rapid descent. Logically, I know that it is safer to hike with others, and so why is it that I continue to take the risk of these solitary excursions? Simply put, it's easier. I can decide when and where I go, I can set my own pace without worrying about hastening or slowing my steps to accommodate anyone else, and I can decide how much time I want to spend at the top of whatever peak I have reached, enjoying the view. I know what you're thinking- control freak. And yes, absolutely, to some extent that's true. It's been an ongoing challenge of mine, both personally and professionally, to learn to relinquish some control to others. Hiking with others, and collaborating with others, can be hard. It requires trust, open and honest communication, and oftentimes, compromise. 

          And so given the "challenge" of hiking with another individual, why would I ever even consider this as an option? Because the reality is, that if I only ever hike exclusively on my own, at some point I will stop progressing. I will have learned all that I can on my own, and my growth will stop. As well, without the healthy competition of hiking with someone who is more physically fit than myself, it's likely that I'm not actually pushing myself as much as I could, resulting in slower growth. 

          Recently, I was descending from one of my favourite spots, peak 2 of the Stawamus Chief in Squamish. It had been raining a bit. For those of you who are familiar with this hike, there is one particularly challenging section where a chain is required to lower yourself down between two large boulders. As a "height challenged" individual, with the resulting slippery rocks and chains, it took some concerted effort, and a few attempts to safely lower myself down this section. In the midst of this, I realized that if I'd had someone with me, we would have been able to help each other through this challenge. If I was hiking with someone who was more experienced, they would have been able to provide some useful tips and strategies.

A challenging section of peak 2 of the Chief.

          Next summer, my goal is to summit Mt. Baker in Washington. A friend of mine, after offering some words of encouragement and knowing my love of solo excursions, immediately cautioned that I can't do this alone! As a novice alpine climber I will need to rely heavily on the expertise and support of experienced and trained guides, as well as the strength and endurance of fellow climbers to ascend the 10, 781 feet up the Colemen Deming glacier to the summit. This will require trust, open and honest communication and yes, compromise. 

          And so as August slowly winds to a close, my solitary summer excursions will help to inform and clarify my goals for the approaching school year. As a bit of a "loner" and someone who sometimes struggles to compromise and relinquish control, it better equips me to recognize some of the challenges that are inherent to collaboration. I still think that sometimes, it's ok, even preferable, to "go it alone". But ultimately, for real growth and innovation to occur, we need to extend our own learning by connecting to those whose knowledge and expertise helps us to reach further, to progress more quickly, and to perhaps move beyond what we are capable of achieving on our own. 

Top of Peak 2. Photo courtesy of accommodating stranger.

       
       

           

The Gift of Perspective

          In a previous post, "Through A Parent's Eyes" I reflected on how profoundly my son has impacted my educational philosophy. Ultimately, I view my students not through the eyes of an educator, but through the eyes of a parent. http://www.teachergarr.blogspot.ca/2013/11/through-parents-eyes.html This perspective continues to inform not only my teaching practice, but functioned as a valuable foundation during my temporary role as Acting Vice Principal this past year. With this in mind, my intention is always to interact with students in a manner that is transparent, respectful and caring, regardless of the situation or context. Foremost in my mind is always, how would I want my son to be treated in this situation?
          This past Friday, I was once again reminded of the power that a change in perspective can provide. I had the opportunity to share at the SFU Education Summer Institute on Professional Learning Communities.
http://www.sfu.ca/education/gs/current-students/conf-events/summer-institute.html My session, "Creating a Culture of Collaboration" focusses on the issue of teacher isolation as a barrier to collaboration, and suggests various platforms to facilitate both global and local connections, allowing educators to move beyond the confines of their classrooms. http://www.slideshare.net/teachergarr/creating-a-culture-of-collaboration-sfu-summer-institute-2014
          Amongst other topics, I discuss the impact that Twitter and Blogging has had on my own professional learning and growth. I was also able to share some of the innovative initiatives that I have been privileged to participate in, such as iTunes U course development and the Sullivan Heights Learning Partners program. My session was attended by a diverse range of individuals, including teachers from several districts, SFU Education students, school board members, administrators and university faculty.
          For the past several years, I've had the opportunity to happily immerse myself in these professional passions, and have spent innumerable hours exploring and investigating the topics that I discussed with session participants, and as such, I felt relatively competent, and comfortable, sharing my learning and professional experiences with others. And yet, it is exactly in this "comfortable" spot that I would suggest our growth and learning tends to stagnate. However, it is through the reciprocal, interactive process of sharing with others, that we can extend and deepen our own learning and understanding.
          By responding to the thought provoking questions and comments of session participants, I was able to add their unique and diverse perspectives to my own, to view topics that I have become somewhat familiar with, through a fresh perspective. It is akin to a kind of double vision, suddenly being able to view familiar content through multiple new lenses. By the end of the session, as various participants approached me with additional comments and questions, I came once again to this understanding: The transformative impact of collaboration is not just as a result of shared content and skills, it is as a result of the layering of additional perspectives onto our own, the blending and extending of others' views with our own.
          And so as I reflect on this past year, one filled with challenges and opportunities, my most profound and impactful "learning" has not been as a result of a particular session that I've attended, or an article that I've read, it has resulted from remarkable individuals gifting me with own unique and diverse perspectives, or lenses, allowing me to extend and expand my own "vision".

A new perspective, a new lens, a new understanding.