The elevator door opened on the third floor of our board office last Monday and I stepped aside to allow an enthusiastic group of binder-toting, suitcase-dragging, coffee-carrying folks to clear the car. I recognized some of the group and quickly determined that everyone on the elevator was part of our district psychology team, obviously gathering for a day of work together. After unsuccessfully trying to come up with a witty comment that might be appropriate to frame the scene, I simply said, “Have fun”, and boarded the elevator.
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So I recently attended yet another conference on ….21st Century Learning. I heard the keynotes and attended the workshops. I listened attentively to what delegates were saying and of course, it all led to the issue of integrating technology in education. I remain concerned that the discourse has not changed in decades and the new “corps” of my technology-in-education colleagues are doing their best to convince decision-makers that the time is now using old strategies that have simply not worked.
As I said to my colleague Bruce Dixon of the Anywhere Anytime Learning Foundation, who was one of the keynote speakers, “Remember Bruce, the conference you organized in June 2010, in Maine, in which you assembled a representative group of the past “leaders” in technology in education? The focus of the conference was simple and pragmatic: Why have we failed to convince more people of the need to effectively integrate technology into the classroom?” Bruce just looked at me and smiled appreciatively.
In 2012, the school district leaders and trustees who make a move to introduce system wide technology integration are still embarking upon a very lonely path.
So, as I listen to the next generation trying their best to convince decision-makers of the need to invest in and integrate technology into the classroom, here are some cautionary notes for these “new” presentations.
And here are a few other realities:
So, you may now understand the title of this blog.
EdCamps are all the rage, but is crowdsourcing of pro-d really such a good idea? The world abounds with conspiracy theorists, holocaust deniers and alien abduction survivors masquerading as normal folks, and they don’t hesitate to jump into public discourse – see the comments section of any online newspaper for example. A surprising number of fanatics even get themselves elected to public office. I’m not naming names here because I don’t want to be sued, but I bet we can all think of several examples. Do we really think that the educational sphere is devoid of such fervent but wrongheaded beliefs. Zeroes anyone? How is it then that an open forum like EdCamp is supposed to find its way forward to innovative practices that will improve student learning rather than just reinforcing prejudices and replicating favourite strategies from the past? Is the Twittersphere immune to the human preference for the familiar, the inclination to rose-coloured self-protective wishful thinking about one’s own effectiveness and plain old zealotry?
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The idea behind crowdsourcing is that a transparent public process can tap into the “wisdom of the crowd,” which Surowiecki claims has the potential to exceed the intelligence of any one expert. That sounds good, and I think we all appreciate that grounded experience in the classroom has much to offer that teachers cannot get from theoretical musings with weak linkage to actual practice, but blind faith in collective wisdom may simply lead to a self-referencing spiral of conservative conventionality spiced with random excursions into novelty that quickly return to base camp. Where do the new ideas come from and how are they evaluated? Is enthusiastic and confident declaration by an advocate to be taken as an indication of merit? How can constructive critique be brought into the mix and how can we ensure that each EdCamp builds on the last rather than always starting from scratch?
In the world of research there is a structured process of peer review to support publications intended as a running record of learning. Unfortunately, as Kuhn has shown in The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, the recognized elite can be a conservative force whose vested interest inhibits innovation and gives prominence to incremental embellishment of current orthodoxies. This generally arises not from malevolent intent, but rather from what Chris Argyris has termed “the defensiveness of experts” – an inclination to project confident understanding and suppress uncertainty in order to protect their reputation as an expert. The establishment always tends to perpetuate itself.
If those who think that disruptive transformation is required in order for school systems to keep pace with the hectic rate of change in the world at large and successfully prepare students for an unknown and rapidly evolving future are correct – and I am one of them – then we need EdCamps and other mechanisms for broad-based dialogue, bold innovation and rapid sharing of ideas. Virtual communities that enable richly connected networks which extend the power of individual minds are essential, but this new horizon begs questions of quality, continuity and cumulative impact. Hierarchically credentialed authority in education and academia has many shortcomings, but so do the new technologically mediated democratic structures of participatory culture. Our enthusiasm for them has to be tempered with healthy skepticism and a wide-awake willingness to encounter the underbelly of crowdsourcing reduced to enthusiastic but cacophonous opining and groupthink.
In Surowiecki’s thesis, the wisdom of the crowd can emerge if there is a diverse array of informed individuals with complementary perspectives on an issue and an effective way of compiling and consolidating their opinions. An EdCamp meets some of these criteria, but not all of them. In continuing to develop this promising new practice, how can we enhance the experience by encouraging diverse participation and developing better methods of consolidating the information and experience inherent in it? Can it move beyond early adopters to include and influence the mainstream majority?
In a recent presentation at the CEA Annual Conference, Bruce Dixon proclaimed that “diversity trumps curation,” and cited Wikipedia as an example, but that potential is neither automatic nor guaranteed without the right scaffolding. Social networking ensures that there will be diversity and makes curation impossible in its realm. This can be a good thing, and even a great thing, but it all depends on how we use it.
Next: The EdCamp Explosion: Taking it to the next level
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For the past several years, a good deal of the discourse in educational change circles has focused on teacher quality: how to recognize it, how to improve it, and how it might become more pervasive in all Canadian schools. The conversations have branched off in many directions to include the best ways to assess teacher quality, the idea of merit pay to encourage and reward successful teaching, evidenced-based best practices and how to, in the end, ensure quality throughout the entire system. Much of the conversation has been directed at closing the gap between effective and ineffective teaching by, in a very real sense, standardizing professional practice.
I know that I’m not alone in welcoming the opportunity to have stronger conversations about what constitutes effective teaching, and I believe that it’s extremely important that these conversations take place at all levels of the system. Lately, though, I’ve been thinking a great deal about the energy that I know to be at the heart of the teaching and learning dynamic. It’s an energy that has been evident through our work on the Teaching The Way We Aspire to Teach project, and it’s an energy that is very evident when we talk to students about their memorable learning experiences.
But I’m not sure that the spark that ignites the learning process is always accounted for when we try to integrate our research about effective teaching into the accepted canon of practice. It could be that our metaphor of plugging the gap needs to be tempered with another image. In thinking about my own practice, and the teaching moments that I remember as being particularly powerful, I can point to a type of tension that served to hold open a space between what I understood the system expected of me and what I felt was needed at that particular time and place. It was in this space that the creative energy that has sustained me as a teacher for nearly 30 years was nurtured. But it wasn’t just about me; in talking to students—even many years later—it was in this space that the creative energy of my students was also ignited.
My mechanic tells to me that, with spark plugs, the key to proper firing lies in getting the space between the center and side electrodes just right. If the space is too narrow or too wide the spark that ignites the air/fuel mixture will not occur at an optimal level, if at all. The precision-driven process of gapping the plug is an attempt to get that space right.
Hmmm…
I’m carrying this metaphor with me throughout the week, and I would love it if you could join me in thinking about this a little more.
As a teacher do you feel that you have adequate space to spark the type of energy that you would like to see in your own classroom? As a parent, are your children excited by the learning that is occurring in their school? As an administrator, do you have the tools and resources that you need to gap the plugs that drive your learning community?
Supporters applaud the space that the Flipped Classroom provides for deeper and more engaged learning. Critics express concern that the concept de-values the importance of the act of teaching, and puts too much pressure on students to learn required material outside of the classroom–the very place where it should be taking place. After talking to Carolyn Durley and Quinn Barreth, two Canadian teachers that are working with the idea of the Flipped Classroom in their own schools, I was most excited by the fact that these teachers were being given both the permission and the space to engage in the innovative play that, I believe, is going to move schools out of the conceptual and practical ruts that prevent real change and transformation.
The version of the Flipped Classroom that is now capturing the imaginations of educators across the continent and around the world began about 5 years ago when two Colorado teachers were looking for a way to ensure that students who physically missed their science classes didn’t “miss the learning”. By creating a series of lesson videos that could be accessed outside class time, Jonathan Bergmann and Aaron Sams enabled absent students to, in essence, be in class while at home, albeit after the fact. Although taping lectures and lessons has been going on for years in post-secondary institutions, excitement for what this could mean for elementary and secondary education has grown, amplified by advances in access to and quality of technology.
Discussion around the Flipped Classroom has forced us to think about and challenge many of the assumptions that we make about school, about teaching and learning, and about the relationship between teacher, student and the content being learned. The conversation is not without controversy or objections. We’ll talk about some of these in future posts, not only in the context of the Flip, but in terms of what these points of contention can mean for the transformation discourse that is starting to gain some traction.
In listening back to the Teaching Out Loud Podcast featuring the voices of Carolyn and Quinn, however, I couldn’t help but smile at the enthusiasm and energy with which they talked about what they were doing. Although their Flip initiatives are substantially different in terms of age of students and the way that the Flip works in their classroom, one can’t help but pick up on the pioneering spirit that flows through their conversation. They know that they are entering new territory here, and they know that they are in a time where they, themselves, are playing with new ideas, working them, reworking them and redesigning their practice along the way.
This is not a case of adopting a best practice that everyone in their district is now expected to use. This is not a case of blindly jumping on a bandwagon and hoping for the best. Nor is it a case of one teacher flying solo on something that they think might work. Instead, the collective of teachers that are part of the Flipped Classroom movement, from what I can tell, are trying to bring an idea that makes sense to them to life in their own teaching practice. They are massaging it, changing it, talking to others about it and, in the process, exciting the imaginations of other educators.
There’s no telling where the Flipped Classroom movement will be ten years from now, but the spirit of educational entrepreneurship that I see bubbling up in the places where it’s being tried is hopeful. It’s a spirit of adventure that leverages creativity and innovation to bring the principles of differentiation and success for all students to life.
And, for me, that’s precisely what we need to happening in the 21st century schoolhouse!
You can hear Carolyn Durley and Quinn Barreth discussing how they are flipping their classrooms in the latest Teaching Out Loud podcast.
Stock letter asks school to warn when sensitive subjects arise – Toronto Star
Related Editorials
It was a chilly and very windy day in May, 1994 when I first began to become aware of the difference between schooling and education. I had taken my grade 6/7 class to the Canada’s Wonderland amusement park for their annual “Math and Physics” Day, hoping to somehow get them excited about something more than just being at Canada’s Wonderland! My friend, Roger Kenyon, and I were huddled in one of the very busy eateries on site, trying to warm ourselves with a morning cup of coffee. We had settled down at a table with a group of Grade 12 math students who were busy manipulating numbers on one of the many pages in the official Math and Physics Day student guide. I was fascinated by the intensity and speed at which they were performing their calculations. Being someone that was never very successful in my high school math and science courses, I’ve always held in awe those that demonstrate a sense of ease with formulae, number-crunching and abstract proofs.
“You guys are good pretty good at that,” I commented.
“We’re all “A” students,” one of the students offered.
“Oh, so you really know what you’re doing.”
“No,” another student said, “We’ve just learned the formulas (sic)!”
Well, that began a brief but powerful conversation with the students about their math classes and how, after being shown the formulae, they simply had to figure out how to “fill in the blanks.”
Now, I’m not naive enough to believe that you can get an A in an upper level math class without some level of understanding—likely more understanding than these particular students were willing to admit—but perhaps this was my first encounter with the idea of doing school.
A new series of reports has just been released by the CEA, based on their widely recognized initiative, What Did you Do In School Today?. The first of these, which examines the relationship between various dimensions of student engagement and academic success, poses some sobering questions about the connection between institutional engagement and school marks.
The research indicates that, despite best efforts of many jurisdictions to recognize that behaviours like attendance, effort and homework (p.7) don’t actually reveal a whole lot about understanding or depth of knowledge, review of actual practice indicates that use of these to determine academic success (at least in terms of marks) is still quite common. Although effort is a strong indicator of intellectual engagement, it seems to be overshadowed by evidence that institutional compliance trumps a whole lot of other things when it comes to school success.
Despite the rallying cries that have emerged over the past decade—cries for more authentic assessment and more focus on depth of understanding—it appears that the practice of following the rules of school may still be the most effective way to get good marks.
In my opening story, the students I met had learned that they could do well in math if they learned how to plug in the numbers. Doing math was different than understanding math. And, although my Canada’s Wonderland experience took place nearly 20 years ago, the WDYDIST research suggests to me that things may not be changing at the pace that we would want.
Traditional thinking and the actions that go along with that thinking are both very stubborn things, requiring critical examination of current practice and the sometimes invisible assumptions that hold them in place. That said, we know that there are efforts being made across the country to challenge and change both policy and practice, allowing us to move from doing school to, in a sense, undoing school.
So, in your experience, how are traditional ways of getting marks being supplemented, if not replaced, by other measures of success? How are the marks that we’re assigning to students becoming more authentic reflections of what they know and are able to do?
Is the idea of marks too closely attached to the idea of doing school to affect any sort of realistic change?
Will our desire to have students go beyond merely doing school require that, as educators, parents and policy-makers we first undo school, taking it apart in ways that allow us to examine, challenge, critique and rebuild?
The new reports from the WDYDIST project are important explorations of one of the key dimensions of school transformation. I look forward to further conversation and perspectives!
We will either find a way, or make one. (Hannibal)
From a personal perspective, creativity enhances our individual developmental capacity, empowering us to explore new initiatives. From a societal standpoint, an increasing number of organizations favour employees who have the ability to effectively contribute to an enterprising culture. As a result, teachers – who are responsible for the education of the students to be future sources of creativity in society – are encouraged to provide opportunities for their students to develop creative thinking skills both independently and interdependently.
Current literature on the creative process is often limited to the outcome of group work and questions whether creativity is further developed in a group setting as opposed to at an individual level. Yet, the literature appears to have neglected to study the process of working in a group to enhance creativity. When students are directly engaged in group activities, what factors make it more likely that group work will serve as a conduit to creativity? And – since working with groups means working with people – does the concept of “two minds are better than one” lead to greater creativity?
Most authors agree that creativity involves taking an idea to new heights. We opted to adapt the following definition as a framework for our observations and analyses of students’ group work activities, since it captures fundamental elements included in most descriptions of creativity: “Creativity is the ability to use imagination, insight and intellect, as well as feeling and emotion, to move an idea from its present state to an alternate, previously unexplored state.”1
Despite the widely accepted general characteristics of creativity, approaches to bring it into play vary across disciplines. One possible reason for this disparity lies in the fact that the creative process is intangible and differs for everyone, due in part to inherent differences in individual, interpersonal, and environmental conditions.
We feel it is important to develop creativity in teacher education programs for numerous reasons. First, an increasing demand for innovation and creation is omnipresent in schools. Students who will subsequently interact in an increasingly complex democratic society will benefit from critical and creative thinking skills, and society will benefit as well. Second, technological progress is occurring quickly and frequently, resulting in significant changes in lifestyles, values, and knowledge.2 As a result, there is a continuously evolving knowledge base in all disciplines that requires ongoing creative and innovative efforts to sustain and build upon it. Furthermore, employers increasingly have an underlying expectation that their workforce will consist of insightful and imaginative thinkers to complement the growth of their organizations.3 Central to these societal changes is the ability for students to work creatively in groups and for teachers to model and teach them the skills they need to do so.
In order to fully understand how creativity is fostered in working groups, we felt that an imperative initial step was to understand what, exactly, occurs while students are engaged in creative group activities. We asked 186 student teachers in their final year to describe working in a group as fully as they could, deliberately posing an open-ended question to elicit a broad range of responses and to avoid constraining their answers.
Our analysis of student teacher narratives uncovered six main, interrelated lessons for fostering creativity in classroom group activities. For each lesson presented, we have selected one passage, representative of many similar student thoughts, for supportive evidence. Although our study focused on post-secondary students, we feel its findings apply, perhaps with some variation, to younger students as well.
Many of our classes consist of group work, and I sometimes enjoy participating, but sometimes the content is dry. It becomes repetitive. Often the students become distracted…and end up talking about other personal things.
When students are unaware of the aim and advantage of an assignment, they potentially feel that group work activity is a waste of their time. Consequently, it is necessary for the purpose and process of the activity and the individual roles within the group to be clearly defined, understood, and accepted in order to allow students to work collaboratively and learn to express greater creativity. Having a meaningful rationale for the task that extends beyond grades – such as completing an assignment that they know will benefit their immediate or long-term learning – encourages commitment towards the task. Being engaged and interested in an assignment may then positively influence the creative process within the group.
Often we are working with various individuals with whom we have difficulty finding a common meeting time and place as well as balancing the workload equitably.
A barrier for many students, when working on group assignments that require time outside the classroom, is difficulty in coordinating meeting times due to academic schedules, transportation, work commitments, and family responsibilities. These variables have a tendency to contribute to the failure of whole-group efforts. It is therefore important to provide class time for group brainstorming sessions. We caution that post-secondary educators should utilize class brainstorming sessions sparingly, however, as some students felt that these sessions were reducing opportunities to benefit from their professor sharing his or her expertise.
It is important to remember, and to remind students, that creative inspiration can arise randomly, outside of the classroom. It would therefore also be beneficial to encourage them to note their ideas on their iPhone, on their Blackberry, or in a small notebook that they carry at all times, so they are recorded for contribution to later group brainstorming sessions.
I really enjoyed it (group work). We started the project by choosing a topic that we were both interested in and understood. We also both chose the style of presentation. We both liked the style because we were both creative and perfectionist.
If the objective is to develop creativity, we must remember to refrain from imposing a high number of limits and boundaries on the expected outcome of the assignment. While guidelines are essential, the scope for creativity is limited when assignments only seek fact-finding and neglect to include students’ own thoughts, feelings, and analyses. The desire for clear direction is deeply ingrained in students because educational systems usually require them to answer rather than ask questions. Social programming tends to lead us in a linear direction of thought and conformity. But these tendencies are enemies of creativity, and educators seeking to encourage creativity need to guard against them.
The desire for clear direction is deeply ingrained … Social programming tends to lead us in a linear direction of thought and conformity. But these tendencies are enemies of creativity, and educators seeking to encourage creativity need to guard against them.
Group work can break up friendships.
We may be tempted to perceive group work conflict as an unavoidable casualty of working with individuals who possess varying work styles, ambitions, and educational needs. And indeed, conflict is more likely to arise if students are being asked to work outside of their comfort zones and to think critically and creatively. In unstructured settings, student thoughts will take them in different directions, and conflicts, in that instance, can present a challenge to effective group creativity.
However, conflict is not automatically a hindrance to the group work process. Often, the way that students resolve conflicts can become the element that determines whether or not the group will be successful. In fact, conflict that is resolved constructively may result in enhanced individual and professional growth. Since conflict can potentially be either productive or destructive, we suggest that, prior to beginning an assignment, educators teach group conflict resolution skills, for example by providing a list of appropriate and effective group behaviours and by offering to mediate unresolved conflicts. In this way, students learn to focus on issues rather than on individuals, thus creating a context that allows them to become better equipped as team members and to benefit from the creative group work process.
Often, group projects result in one mark for all members, and this does not reflect the time and effort put forth by each separate person.
Most students wrote that they disliked having a collective grade ascribed for a group activity. Measuring individual contributions not only allows educators to give credit where it is due, it also provides insight into each student’s individual strengths and areas of growth. This type of information can be especially difficult to collect with large groups of students. Knowing students’ abilities allows educators to tailor subsequent instruction to address unique needs and helps teachers ensure that each student’s individual creativity is nurtured – which in turn helps creativity thrive in a group setting.
Group work can be beneficial for large projects but does not benefit the students’ learning because there is no teacher guidance, only student-led, non-expert guidance.
Unstructured, open-ended activities that cultivate the growth of creativity can become a source of anxiety for students, especially if they are unfamiliar with thinking critically and creatively. Throughout their schooling, from primary to post-secondary years, students have often been required to meet a specific set of expectations set forth by their teachers. These expectations have sometimes been in the form of a prescribed project with guidelines to complete, a set of questions to answer, an experiment to conduct using scientific methods, and many other situations where the teacher created the learning activity. The students who shared their thoughts in this study appreciated the opportunity to express their own opinions and exchange ideas with their peers, but they also recognized the benefit of their educators’ expertise.
Unstructured, open-ended activities that cultivate the growth of creativity can become a source of anxiety for students, especially if they are unfamiliar with thinking critically and creatively.
Teachers who are encouraging group creative activities, but also make themselves available to meet with students, can provide additional reassurance that the work is meaningful and fruitful. Beware of providing too much direction, however, if your objective is to nurture creativity in your students. Your reassurance is helpful, but too much reassurance can taint the creative process.
Beware of providing too much direction, however, if your objective is to nurture creativity in your students. Your reassurance is helpful, but too much reassurance can taint the creative process.
The student experiences that we examined revealed mixed and contradictory perceptions of the level of creative productivity that is achieved while working in a group. Some participants found it effective only when the educator established a context that nurtured their creativity and met their educational needs. Some students preferred more prescriptive tasks in order to foster their academic success. Still others preferred to work independently to avoid the struggles commonly associated with group work processes.
Creativity grows from: “environments that encourage it, interactions that spark it, people that nurture it, and interactions that reward it, but can defiantly emerge from environments that appear to do the opposite.”[4] We recognize that creativity in itself is a difficult concept to teach and facilitate. We accept that creativity can only be encouraged and experienced, not required.
This study was our attempt to understand ways to develop creativity in group processes by analyzing group work experiences of student teachers, since they are, or will be, on the front lines of student learning. The six lessons learned from the narratives paint a picture of the realities of these experiences and of student perceptions of the value of group work activities in promoting creativity. The lessons learned also provide insight into the discourse on whether the merging of expertise and abilities is beneficial to group productivity.
Are two minds really better than one? Perhaps the answer depends on the context of the group work and on the way that it is undertaken.
EN BREF – Quels facteurs favorisent le plus la créativité des élèves participant directement à des activités collectives? Puisque travailler en groupe implique un fonctionnement avec d’autres personnes, le concept « deux têtes valent mieux qu’une » accroît-il la créativité? Une analyse de narrations d’élèves et d’enseignants a permis de dégager six lignes directrices étroitement liées qui favorisent la créativité lors d’activités collectives en classe : établir un but clair et utile pour le travail en groupe; accorder du temps en classe pour un remue-méninges; se garder d’imposer trop de limites et d’interdictions quant au résultat attendu du travail collectif; enseigner dès le départ des techniques de résolution constructive de conflits; trouver une façon de reconnaître les contributions individuelles des membres du groupe; être disponible pour confirmer aux élèves qu’ils sont dans la bonne voie. Ces six lignes directrices tiennent compte de la façon dont les élèves perçoivent la valeur que joue le travail d’équipe pour promouvoir la créativité.
1 R. Smith-Bingham, “Public Policy, Innovation and the Need for Creativity,” in Developing Creativity in Higher Education, eds. N. Jackson, M. Oliver, and J. Wisdom (New York: Routledge, 2006): 8.
2 M. Csiksentmihalyi, “Foreword: Developing Creativity,” in Developing Creativity, eds. N. Jackson, M. Oliver, and J. Wisdom.
3 N. Jackson, “Imagining a Different World,” in Developing Creativity, eds. N. Jackson, M. Oliver, and J. Wisdom.
4 Smith-Bingham, 13.
I grew up in the small town of Snow Lake, Manitoba, in the 70s. This means, first of all, that I’m getting old. But also it means that when we wanted entertainment as kids, we had to make it. In our community, we had two TV channels (seriously), one radio station, and one store that sold magazines. No one was coming to save us from boredom; it was all up to us. So we spent endless hours building cool things – forts or go carts – or ripping apart things that we found in our parents’ garages.
When I was a young teenager, one of my friend’s dads brought home a Commodore 64 computer. We were interested in it, but only because it had a game that let us pretend we were in the Olympics. Besides that – with no one giving us a screwdriver and wanting us to tear it apart – we couldn’t think of what we would use it for.
But with every passing season, we saw new and improved computers for sale, more powerful and surprisingly useful. It wasn’t long before desktop publishing came along, followed by the ability to edit photos and videos. Within a few years, computers let us connect with others we hadn’t seen for years and forge new friendships. They became invaluable tools that let us do things almost unimaginable only a few years before. But as I grew into an adult, I could still make the connection between these machines and the times when, as a kid, I wanted to make new things and create something cool; computers were machines that gave us the ability to be creative in new ways.
But lately I’ve been wondering. Does our commitment to educational technology allow us to do new things or just get new things?
I am an absolute advocate for ICT in classrooms. I believe it gives us an opportunity to reach into new corners of learning and expand what happens in classrooms in ways that are not possible without it. But I also believe that simply throwing technology into classrooms will change nothing. We need to challenge our students to use these tools to create, to connect, and to tinker. Do we believe that we are preparing students for the future simply because we’ve spent thousands on iPads or SMART Boards or whatever shiny gadget has garnered society’s attention for the moment? If so, then our educational technology is focused on the consumption of products and information at the expense of creativity, connection, and community.
We often make the mistake, in North America, of judging the success of our educational technology programs the way we would judge a car. Shiny? New? Thinking like consumers, if the answer is yes, we have to have it. Instead, we should be evaluating the success of our programs by thinking like producers. Will the purchases we are making challenge our students to think, to communicate with real people, to create new artifacts? A key question we should ask ourselves before we make any purchase is, “Will this give our students the opportunity to make cool things with interesting people from far away?”
The students in my classroom connect with people around the world. We’ve worked with kids who live in the slums of cities in Brazil. We’ve exchanged photos with students in Indonesia. Connecting with others has helped us to understand how our lives compare with students living in places like Los Angeles and the farm towns of Ontario. The connections that my students have to the outside world are as essential as the papers that fill their binders. We’ve built software, designed animations, and traded videos with other classrooms. Creating and communicating – the overriding goals of everything that happens in my classroom.
I hope that we in education take advantage of the opportunities that technology gives us, but I worry that we won’t. I worry that, instead, we will chase after the newest machines that come with a textbook installed and a set of teacher “photocopiable” worksheets. We will buy what is best marketed at us to help raise test scores. We’ll buy what we’re told is easy to use. If we go that route, there is a real danger that we are locking our students into a place where form is more important than function and where they are simply consumers of information and not active creators of global understanding and connections.
I used the tools I had as a kid to build cool things; lets give the students in our classrooms today that same opportunity.
This is the most difficult editorial I’ve written in thirteen years of writing these 400-word snippets. How often during those years I’ve sat at my keyboard – having put off this final piece in the editorial to-do list until the very last minute – wondering how to fill my half of this page! Now, tapping the keys on my final editorial, I’m wondering how to put it all into so few words.
With retirement looming, I am looking forward to life without deadlines. But as I put the finishing touches on this issue, I can’t help dwelling on the things I will miss.
I will miss the good people at CEA, all of whom have been supportive co-workers, some of whom have become friends.
I will miss the steady ding of mail coming into my inbox from authors across the country – and sometimes around the world. I expect to go through a prolonged period of withdrawal.
I will miss the work of editing, itself, which – despite its reputation as an arcane activity focused on the mysteries of semicolons – is in fact an intimate and broadening experience, immersing the editor into the words and workings of another mind.
I may even miss writing these editorials. They have often forced me to clarify my own thoughts or to dig deeper into the implications of the ideas of others.
Mostly, of course, I will miss the authors themselves – many of you reading this now – who have provided a steady stream of stimulating, challenging, sometimes controversial articles. Always, when I finish my work on an issue of Education Canada, I emerge with a new understanding of some corner of the human condition, a fresh insight into the learning mind, a renewed passion for young people, or a refuelled anger about the inequities that still plague our society and our schools.
When then-CEO of CEA, Penny Milton, first approached me about this job, she had a vision of a magazine that would span the gap between scholarly research journals and the popular press – a publication that was thoughtful, serious, evidence-based – but also accessible to non-academics and grounded in the real world of teaching and learning. For more than a decade, I have returned to that vision whenever I’ve felt myself or the magazine begin to drift.
For all who have contributed – as readers and writers – to making the vision a reality, to creating and supporting a magazine where ideas, evidence, and practice intersect for the benefit of Canada’s young people, I thank you. And so will they.
It’s been an honour to edit Education Canada. But life without deadlines beckons, and I’m eager to see where it leads.
Ron Canuel, CEA CEO, invites educators to apply for the 2012 Ken Spencer Award.
It’s back-to-school time across Canada, that annual phenomenon that signals the transition from a more relaxed sense of time and routine, to something a little more disciplined, regular and, in most Canadian locales, a little cooler. Even if you don’t have children in the formal school system, media coverage of the usual back-to-school issues remind us of the approaching change of season: dressing your children for the first day of school, healthy lunches, first day anxiety, transitions between various levels of system and how best to communicate with your child’s teacher. Recently, new threads have been woven into the back-to-school narrative: the use of social media, online learning and managing the stress of overscheduled parents and children.
But, once the annual flurry of media attention to schools during this highly energized season of return settles down, I always find myself being more than a little disappointed when I realize that these public conversations about school change haven’t appeared to have broken any new ground. To be sure, the blogosphere and the expanding social media landscape is growing in terms of the number of teachers, administrators, parents and community members who have become dedicated to pushing the edges on the educational discourse in this country, but many of these conversations remain hidden from wide public view. I can’t help but think that the time is ripe for a spirit of convergence between traditional media and the growing world of web-based publishing!
Could it be time for mainstream to meet Twitter stream?
Imagine what might happen if:
In short, imagine what might happen if we were able to create a type of discursive confluence where the main stream” of educational narrative across Canada could be fed and refreshed by the newer social media streams (and tributaries) that are forming in other places on the web.
I believe that gradually (albeit, slowly) we might begin to see a change in the types of conversations that take place in the public spaces around the country about schooling, education, teaching and learning.
You know something? If we got started now, we might be able to see some of that change in time for next year’s back-to-school season!
Next: Just what might those deeper questions be?
Over the years, the Canadian Education Association (CEA) has explored many different questions with Canadians through our national surveys. This year, we wanted to examine Canadians’ views on innovation in education, and get a sense of your appetite for change in public education.
An online survey was conducted in March 2012 and 493 people responded from across the country. This pan-Canadian sampling shares what our educators think about the need for change, how they would grade our public education system, and what their top priorities are for public education in Canada.
Click here for detailed survey results, including respondent and provincial breakdowns.
1. 73% of respondents felt that there was a need for change
CEA and a contracted research firm asked respondents what they felt the degree of need for change was in Canadian public education. The need for change is greatest in B.C. (96%), the Atlantic Region (88%), Alberta (85%). The need for change appears to be less intense in Ontario.
2. Grading Canadian public schools with a “B”
We asked respondents to grade their public schools (junior KD to Grade 12) in their community/province with an A,B,C,D, or Fail. Just under half of all respondents gave a grade of “B” to the public schools in their community (47%) and province (42%). In general, communities received slightly higher grades than provinces. Respondents from Ontario and B.C. were more likely to assign grades of A or B, compared to respondents from the other provinces.
3. On the need for new ways of doing things
When asked how much need there was, if any, to find new ways of doing things with respect to a variety of ongoing challenges in education, nearly all respondents agreed that “handling differences in student abilities”, “linking schools to outside learning”, and “helping students learn in high school classrooms” were considered to be the top priorities.
Interestingly, “Using technology in the classroom” was the most polarizing item (with relatively larger proportions on both sides of the scale), indicating that while many strongly believe that this must be an area of focus, others are not as convinced (or not as comfortable with the idea).
4. Prioritizing the biggest challenges in public education
When respondents were asked to rate their level of agreement or disagreement on the challenges facing public education today, B.C. and Alberta (where appetite for change is strongest) were most likely to agree with a variety of statements such as “Student engagement and keeping pace with rapid world change” are key challenges in education today.”
Share your thoughts by leaving a comment on this blog:
An online survey was conducted in March 2012 and 493 people responded from across the country. This pan-Canadian sampling shares what our educators think about the need for change, how they would grade our public education system, and what their top priorities are for public education in Canada.
The joint study recently published by the Canadian Education Association and Canadian Teachers’ Federation entitled Teaching the Way We Aspire to Teach, Now and in the Future should give hope to everyone who cares about education in Canada. We, Canadian teachers, are not an embittered, alienated bunch, but rather, deeply compassionate and highly committed professionals who have their students’ growth as their first priority. I was not surprised to read these findings. Nor was I dismayed by some of the real obstacles to aspirational teaching published in the report: insufficient resources, unsupportive school leadership, lack of collaboration with colleagues and the ever present challenge of finding time. Why not dismayed?
I am not illogically optimistic but I am solidly hopeful for the future of teaching and learning in Canada. Why? One word – networks.
Three books have changed the way I look at the art and science of teaching and learning (as well as numerous bloggers and Twitter friends). Connected by Nicholas Christakis and James Fowler, Too Big to Know by David Weinberger and Linked by Albert-Laszlo Barabasi taught me about the nature and power of networks. In Connected, I learned about how ideas move across networks and how only three degrees separate me from anyone else. Attitudes, beliefs and even lifestyles of someone I do not know will have an impact on my life. In Too Big to Know, I learned how the web is changing the shape of knowledge itself. Information has been liberated from the prison of the page and answers are only a link away. In Linked, I learned about the properties of networks and came to see them as an evolutionary force shaping both biological and social systems. So what does any of this have to do with how Canadian teachers feel about their craft? The answer comes in the shape of another question.
What would happen if teachers looked at the education system, failings and all, as a network and as themselves as nodes in that network? How would that change their daily routines, attitudes and beliefs about what is possible for their students in the classroom? I am guessing that the change would be nothing short of the proverbial paradigmatic shift.
Of course this new self-image (“I am a network node”) would not be an answer to all of the obstacles that teachers face, but it would be an important starting point from which to begin the change the ‘system’ needs.
Consider the following picture: Ms. Linkedin arrives at school by 7:30am for her 8:00am class. She is prepared to answer her students questions on last night’s lesson posted on the class wiki because their homework was to write their questions on a shared Google doc. This took no more than 10 minutes of her time and allowed her to adjust the morning’s lesson to accommodate for their questions. (The lesson was a video she flipped using the TED Ed site.) A departmental meeting is planned for her first spare of the day and as head, she has reduced the meeting time by half by collaborating asynchronistically on a Google doc. During lunch, Ms. Linkedin takes ten minutes to read a few tweets from her #edchat Twitter stream and to contribute a few of her own. The afternoon is smooth partly because of a great idea she gleaned from her Personal Learning Network (PLN) about assigning different roles in group work and now the class is humming with excitement. At the day’s end, Ms. Linkedin leaves deeply satisfied, partly because of her students’ enthusiasm and partly because of a parent’s compliment about the good work she is doing, evident by the open class wiki.
I could go on but I think the point has been made. In this network in which we live and work, we are not invisible and we are not alone. Change and growth are inevitable and networks are the mechanism by which they happen. We are not alone nor are we powerless against an inflexible and outdated system. If we ‘grow’ our networks and connect to a like-minded learners, we will achieve more aspirational teaching than ever before. Become the node in the network and watch the change happen.
Fifty years ago – even twenty years ago – it was not so abundantly clear that the Earth and its resources were finite and that the biosphere and the ethnosphere[1] were both richly interconnected systems. Now this reality is undeniable and the implications are legion in every aspect of our existence.

I’m in Halifax with Ron Canuel and Christa Freiler where, later today, we will be presenting the recently completed CEA/CTF report, Teaching the Way We Aspire to Teach: Now and in the Future, to delegates at the Canadian Teachers Federation President’s Forum.
The report is the culmination of more than 2 years of planning and consultation with teachers from across Canada around what some might consider to be a rather curious set of questions: Are you teaching the way you aspire to teach? What are the conditions that would enable you to teach the way you dream of teaching on a more regular basis?
Increasingly, teachers across the country find themselves part of a profession that has become more prescriptive in terms of what must be taught, how it is to be taught, and the methods that will be used determine whether it has been taught effectively. Yet for the last several months, we have moved across the country attempting to weave another thread into the narrative of how teachers see themselves and the work that they do
Interestingly enough, whenever we’ve told other educators that our goal is to, in a very positive way, explore the space that exists between the teacher they dream of being and the teacher that they feel they’re sometimes forced to be, the reaction has been pretty much the same: a brief pause, followed by an expression of recognition and, in most cases a knowing smile.
It’s the type of question that is designed to engage the imagination and it has been in those moments of deep engagement where we have been able to recognize that the hope for this profession does not lie in some outside mandate, some as yet undiscovered teaching strategy, in a book or a program. Instead, I’m convinced that the most positive sign of transformation in this country lies in the hopes and dreams of the teaching professionals that walk into classrooms every day.
From the Yukon to Halifax we heard from teachers who expressed a sense of excitement about the questions, eagerly and poignantly articulating a vision that was grounded in their own stories of excellence, and the desire to be able to live those stories more often. Not only were teachers able to express their visions in powerful ways, but they were able to point to very specific conditions that, they believe, will help us realize that vision.
Over the summer, I will be digging a little deeper into the work of the project—the approaches that we used and the themes that emerged from the many stories collected. For now, I’ll leave you with the invitation with which we began each of our focus group sessions:
Think of a time in your life as a teacher, an administrator, a parent where you felt you were at your best—a time when you said to yourself, “Yes! This is what it’s all about.” Try to remember as many details as you can about that story, and feel free to share it—here or elsewhere.
Teaching can be a very isolated and isolating enterprise. Many of the teaching frames, images and design principles on which our modern-day schools are based are, themselves, rooted in the early one- and two-room schoolhouses that dotted the rural landscape of 19th and early 20th century Canada. The teacher-learner ratio has almost always been one-to-many and this organizational principle, coupled with the closely monitored grade level expectations that have become part of the way that curriculum is developed and implemented has, until now, remained unchallenged in any notable way.
Lately, there has been a great deal of energy in Ontario around an approach to professional learning that seeks to extend images of teacher collaboration beyond gathering together to plan lessons and assess student work with a grade level partner to an understanding of the classroom as a type of public space where teacher learning, collaborative inquiry and professional conversations can take place.
While currently, the co-planning/co-teaching model is being used to build more powerful practice in the area of mathematics instruction, it is a model that shows a great deal of potential for transforming school cultures, open some doors, and energize conversations between teachers across many domains and curriculum areas.
In the co-planning/co-teaching approach educators from across the same school, across the street, or across the district gather together to plan a particular lesson. In the planning process, learning expectations are selected and clustered around the big ideas that teachers wish to explore. Teachers discuss the subtleties and nuances of how the lesson might best be taught, select a problem on which students will work and actually do the task themselves in order to better appreciate what they are asking students to do. This allows teachers to anticipate and discuss the types of difficulties, misunderstandings and misconceptions that might arise during the lesson.
If the collaborative process were to end there, and individual teachers were sent back to their classrooms to implement the lesson, one might well marvel at the power of the experience.
But that’s not what happens. Instead of the planning team disbanding and going their separate ways until their next meeting, they proceed immediately to one of the team’s classrooms and teach the lesson with a group of students. Actually, two of the team members are responsible for “teaching the lesson” while the remaining participants attach themselves to a group of two or three students and act as unobtrusive observes watching, but not intervening, while the assigned tasks is completed.
The conversation that takes place among the team after the co-teaching session allows them to reflect on how the students reacted to the experience and the specific work in which they learners were engaged. They are able to use the student work collected from the lesson as a type of assessment for learning, make decisions on how to proceed with specific groups of students and plan for the next stages of the lesson.
It’s interesting to note that the co-plannng/co-teaching approach is not about visiting someone else’s class to watch them teach. Instead, its a commitment to gather around a particular curriculum idea, an understanding that the shared expertise in the group will help to create a powerful learning experience and the confidence to engage in shared, embedded, professional practice.
Teachers don’t enter the profession to be isolated and shut off from their colleagues. Yet, many of the visible and invisible structures define schools–even in this 21st century–do just that. Co-planning/co-teaching seeks to alter this relationship by deepening what we mean by collaborative inquiry and student-focused teaching. It’s a model that is just starting to seep into the cracks that separate teachers in our own district, but it is showing a great deal of promise and meeting with tremendous support from teachers, administrators and the support staff that are working in consultative roles throughout the province.
A fairly extensive set of videos explaining the approach can be found at http://resources.curriculum.org/secretariat/coplanning/ and, although the main focus for the strategy in Ontario is mathematics, readers may be able to imagine how the co-planning/co-teaching dynamic might find a home in other curriculum areas.
I would love to hear about your experience with this particular approach, or with another model for collaboration that has been powerful for you and your colleagues.
As a child walking home from school, I remember feeling anxious on those days when I was accompanied by a sealed manila envelope meant only for my parents’ eyes. Folded inside, a report card listed a range of subjects and learning skills along the left margin. Along the right side, was a list of handwritten letters that twice each year would announce my scholastic achievements.
Made up of rectangular boxes aligned on rectangular sheets of paper, the hallmark of the report card is that list of grades. Numbers or letters are intended to represent the achievement of a young person, who too often sits at a rectangular desk in a rectangular room, and provides evidence of learning by making pencil scrapings upon rectangular pieces of paper.
Today, I have in my possession a range of historic and very rectangular artifacts of my own learning. On my Kindergarten report, there are three levels of achievement neatly written into the squares. My report included thirteen satisfactory ‘S’s; and one limited ‘L’ for “expresses himself well in creative activities”. The only comment provided by the teacher on the report card is “Sometimes, Rodd gets into mischief.”
My Grade 1 report card, was the first to officially include grades. I had three As, nine Bs and three Cs. As proof that I was egocentric as a six-year-old, my takeaway comment was “Rodd is quite confident now in expressing his ideas. He could develop more interest in the ideas of others.”
By the time my Grade 6 report card arrived, my grades had become a straight VG student on a scale that ranged from ‘needs improvement’ to ‘very good’. I was “A very conscientious boy. A joy to teach.” But the squares on my report card failed to capture the fact that I truly loved to learn; or to recognize that my teachers so fully engaged me that I couldn’t imagine doing anything but stay in school forever.
In later years, I joined my classmates in tearing open our report cards on the way home for summer. We ritually counted our VGs and Gs as the most efficient way to compare our reports with those of our classmates. But such feedback only confirmed what we already knew, that some of us did school well, and others did not.
This ranking and scoring of learning has been with us for many years. In “Technopoly”, Neil Postman credits William Farish, a tutor at Cambridge University in 1792, for being the first to suggest assigning numerical values to student work. Since that time, the concept of grading has been widely adopted, and most accept it as normal and completely logical. I think it’s time we begin to at least question the practice.
Though much of the daily work of the teacher is focused on finding ways to assess learning and to justify grades, these marks are commonly an end point to learning, rather than a directional tool that might suggest individualized learning goals and apt teaching strategies. Whether using letters or numbers to assign grades, I think that the very measurement of something as abstract as “learning” is worth a rethink.
Academic assessment has brought us to a place where teachers routinely watch children cry their way through high stakes tests, where the only feedback the learner might receive is a one-digit number. Learning should be a lifelong human experience, not a snapshot-in-time statistical experience. Surely we can value and celebrate learning without attaching a score.
Would you ever consider digitally assessing your love of a new compact disk? Would you grade the degree to which you’re a fan of a haircut or ball gown? Can a score accurately reflect your ability to repair a dripping faucet or your skill at re-introducing yourself to an acquaintance? Or is it even possible to calculate the percentage grade you’d receive for being an informed and engaged citizen?
The most memorable moments of learning are those when we break free from the rectangles, where it becomes impossible for any variable to truly capture an experience or achievement. How does one assess the day a Grade 8 student brought her horse to school to share her observations about the intelligence of her pets; the day my students figured out for themselves what dirt was made of; the day we hiked through the amazingly ice cold waterfall on the edge of Quebec City; the day our first classroom constitution was drafted and ratified; the night we hosted a ‘Council of all Beings’ campfire summit on the edge of Lake Erie?
Former students regularly give me the most meaningful feedback on my classroom work, and they do it in the form of words spoken face to face. Not one has ever thanked me for introducing them to rectangular pieces of paper, or for filling in a box on a report card. Let’s give students more of the qualitative learning experiences that don’t fit so tidily into rectangles. That’s what they’ll remember.
2011 Clifford Award winner Jessica Toste shares research on relationships between teachers and special needs students.