The “Occupy” movement – with its focus on the dramatic economic inequality that is promoted by our political and economic system – is, sadly, reflected in our education system, where underfunding has led to a culture of school fundraising where some schools in Toronto raise tens of thousands of dollars (in some cases over a thousand dollars per student) to provide a “private school” education – within the public system.
At the same time, inner city schools have been denuded of the resources that used to at least attempt to offset the barriers to learning created by poverty. This inequality – to the tune of $600 million fund-raised dollars annually in Ontario – was documented in Social Planning Toronto’s Public Schools, Private Money report released this past September. I n Toronto, the “Learning Opportunities Grant” from the Province largely goes to keep the lights on, rather than to targeted interventions challenging the impact of poverty on education, such as the Toronto District School Board’s (TDSB’s) successful Model Schools initiative.
Last month, while schools scrambled to respond to tragic suicides resulting from the bullying and discrimination that is an everyday reality for lesbian, gay, bi, and trans youth, I participated in a celebration of the Triangle Program – which provides a safe, positive learning environment for LGBT students in Toronto. I am thrilled that Triangle Program has, over its 16 years, provided a haven for over 600 students. I am profoundly saddened and disappointed by the fact that – despite being a program that is more necessary than ever – that no other Board of Education in Canada has adopted this successful model. I am outraged by the fact that some Boards of Education, condoned by the Ontario Ministry of Education, still refuse permit the existence of clearly identified Gay/Straight Alliances in their schools. In Ontario. In 2011.
I am thrilled that Triangle Program has, over its 16 years, provided a haven for over 600 students. I am profoundly saddened and disappointed by the fact that – despite being a program that is more necessary than ever – that no other Board of Education in Canada has adopted this successful model.
The TDSB has just voted to establish an Africentric Secondary School – a response to the fact that there is still an inexcusable gap between the potential of too many black students and their academic outcomes, and recognition of the success of the elementary Africentric program in dramatically improving student achievement.
Inequities grounded in race, sexual orientation, gender, poverty, and class still haunt our education system. They must be much more explicitly and vigorously challenged through a significant, dedicated allocation of resources, backed up by policies and practices that actively challenge the status quo.
I’m frustrated, angry, and sad that our school systems do not – yet – clearly and fully acknowledge the continued, pervasive and corrosive impact of discrimination, economic inequality, and homophobia.
I’m frustrated, angry, and sad that our school systems do not – yet – clearly and fully acknowledge the continued, pervasive and corrosive impact of discrimination, economic inequality, and homophobia. I know that there is no single “magic bullet” to overcome these ills – they are, after all, reflections of the communities in which they are situated. And I recognize that an Africentric school, a Triangle Program, or a Model School will not solve these systemic problems. It is easy – and tempting – to dismiss them as ‘band-aid’ solutions. It may, however, be useful to remember that band-aids can have more than a surface impact – their very existence continues to remind us that there remain deeper wounds that still need to be healed.
Related Education Canada article:
Immigrant Children in our Classrooms: Beyond ESL
A review of Academic Success and Social Power: Examinations and Social Inequality by Richard Teese, University of Melbourne Press, 2000. ISBN 0 522 84896 6
The title of Richard Teese’s book – Academic Success and Social Power – presages a familiar, if bleak, account of the advantages that schooling confers upon the few at the expense of the many. The site of Teese’s work is Australia and more specifically, Victoria; but its critique that “the institutions that create academic success condemn large numbers of students to failure’’ is one that applies more broadly – perhaps even to Canada.
Teese’s argument has several facets. Underpinning school curricula are assumptions about students, the knowledge and experience that students bring to school, the objectives of study, and often the means of achieving and assessing these objectives. Universities – especially elite institutions – exert inordinate influence upon public school curricula through entrance requirements that privilege particular disciplines and ways of knowing. School curricula and the teachers responsible for them attempt to cultivate the knowledge and dispositions required for successful admission: “the capacity for abstraction, the ability to synthesize, analytical skills, creativity, imagination, the capacity to develop perspective and so on” (p. 4).
Teachers, Teese argues, are challenged to cultivate these capacities because the capacities are, in turn, dependent upon a range of cultural demands that cannot be fulfilled under routine classroom conditions: “Language facility, attentiveness, achievement motivation, self-confidence in learning, personal organization and self-direction, capacity to learn for intrinsic satisfaction rather than extrinsic interest” are all attributes necessary for scholastic success, but less evident among those living in poverty, at least according to Teese. Teachers are stretched to bridge the divide between conceptual structure and family structure: “they it is who have to compensate for the gaps between what the curriculum expects to find in students – conceptual depth and a scholarly outlook and habits – and who students really are” (p. 6).
Mathematics and science – manifestations of academic authority – have become the paramount considerations in determining admissions to university, criteria that post-secondary institutions are reluctant to change. Their use is justified, they claim, because they identify the brightest students – those with “real ability from whatever background” (p. 112). The institutional practices and resistance to change are codified into an institutional “. . . pecking order by commanding the channels of professional and managerial training and recruitment, by drawing on the most successful students – and, therefore, aligning themselves to the most socially advantaged strata of the population – and by exercising intellectual pre-eminence in the most highly ranked fields of knowledge” (p. 214).
Teese’s allegation that abstraction, synthetic and analytical abilities, creativity and imagination are less well developed among the poor is reminiscent of Oscar Lewis’ description of the socialization of poor, Mexican-American children into a “culture of poverty”.[1] It finds more nuanced and contemporary expression in a range of authors from Michael Apple to Terry Wotherspoon. Edgerton, Peter, and Roberts reprise the arguments in their analysis of the Canadian data from the OECD’s 2003 Programme for International Student Assessment that shows the distribution of achievement in Canada reflects socio-economic inequalities.[2]
Teese proposes broad policy shifts aimed primarily at reducing the stranglehold that universities exert on school curricula, strengthening vocational educational opportunities, reforming school curricula and pedagogy, reducing class sizes, and reforming teacher preparation. While I share sympathy for many of the changes Teese proposes, I am not sanguine about focussing Canadian efforts in the same areas.
Policy responses to the persistent relationship between scholastic achievement and socio-economic inequality must complement educational interventions with policy initiatives beyond the boundaries of the school and school systems. People’s lives are not divided up into departments like governments or universities. Although public schools are the obvious places to address the connection between social and educational inequalities, they are not the only places. Public schools require support from complementary social policies designed to support families and communities. Such policies include addressing poverty and strengthening families and communities through decent minimum wages, generous parenting policies, universal daycare and early-childhood education, fair employment standards, and health care. These policies help to reduce inequalities, enabling schools to maximize their contributions in the areas for which they are most qualified.
[1] Oscar Lewis, Five Families: Mexican Case Studies in the Culture of Poverty (New York: Basic Books, 1959).
[2] J. D. Edgerton, T. Peters, and L.W. Roberts, “Back to the Basics: Socio-Economic, Gender, and Regional Disparities in Canada’s Educational System,” Canadian Journal of Education 31, no. 4 (2008): 861-888.
In 1994, several social policy organizations collaborated to challenge the claim by the federal government that Canada’s fiscal debt was the result of overspending on social programs and that public investments had to be severely curtailed. Because most of the mainstream media accepted and propagated this view, the public had limited access to research showing that it was not overspending, but rather the under-collection of taxes, that was the source of the problem. Using research conducted by the federal government’s own finance department, the social policy groups released the report, Paying for Canada: Perspectives on Public Finance and National Programs.[1] It showed that deliberate government policy to reduce taxation levels for some of the most economically advantaged groups in Canada had resulted in a significant decrease in public revenues, thereby fuelling a debt “crisis”.
With five Canadian provinces going to the polls in 2011 and another recession looming, it is important to understand the critical role of stable taxation levels in supporting this country’s success in education. As several writers have pointed out in this issue, Canada’s educational outcomes are much better than those of the U.S. – and the impact of socio-economic status on those outcomes much lower – for a combination of reasons: lower levels of inequality and child and family poverty, higher wages, better support for immigrants, better housing and health care, equitable financing policies, better qualified and motivated teachers, and less variation in quality of schools.[2]
It is no coincidence that Canadians also pay higher taxes than Americans. One of the biggest differences between Canada and the U.S. is the relative willingness of Canadians to pay taxes at a level needed to support investments in our education, social, and health care systems. Public opinion polls repeatedly show that Canadians do not balk at paying taxes for what they value. Currently, this is being demonstrated in Toronto and other municipalities across the country, where citizens are rejecting proposals by their city councils to cut libraries, parks, and other public services.
Concerns are often raised that Canada may follow in the footsteps of the U.S. and introduce educational policies such as merit pay for teachers and high stakes testing that are both punitive and ineffective. Although these policy ideas are sometimes discussed in Canada, there does not appear to be an appetite among provincial governments to emulate American educational policies. A bigger threat to educational quality and equity might be their inclination to follow the U.S. in its low tax agenda.
Canadians pay for decent public education, health care, and safe and inclusive cities through progressive taxation based on the principle that those with higher incomes should pay a higher proportion in taxes – a principle President Obama has been struggling to implement in the U.S. Despite political claims to the contrary, there is evidence that Canadians are willing to pay increased taxes for education. Research commissioned by the Canadian Education Association in 2007 revealed that a majority of Canadian residents outside Quebec[3] – both with and without children – would pay more to support schools.[4]
Reducing tax levels not only reduces overall funding, it exacerbates inequities. Despite its positive international standing, Canada is drifting toward higher inequality – as groups as diverse as the Conference Board of Canada and the Canadian Centre for Policy Alternatives have pointed out. A good example is school fundraising to subsidize budgets; disparities in school-generated funds are “deepening inequalities and leading to gaps in learning opportunities” because of the vastly different financial capacities of neighbourhoods to raise money from the people who live there.[5]
Quality education and a high level of equity require sustained public investment – an investment Canadians have demonstrated they are willing to make. Public education is the foundation that prepares our children for the future they will inherit and helps ensure they have the competencies needed not only to compete in a global economy, but to live together in a globalized world. Lower taxes compromise both the excellence and equity agendas and shortchange our children and the nation’s future. The polls suggest that citizens may be ahead of some of their governments in their understanding of the need to “pay for Canada” and pay for educational excellence and equity.
[1] Child Poverty Action Group, Citizens for Public Justice, and Social Planning Council of Metropolitan Toronto (SPCMT), Paying for Canada: Perspectives on Public Finance and National Programs (Toronto: SPCMT, 1994).
[2] See the article by Ben Levin in this issue of Education Canada.
[3] In Quebec, it was slightly lower at 46 percent.
[4] Jodene Dunleavy, Public Education in Canada: Facts, Trends and Attitudes (Toronto: Canadian Education Association, 2007).
[5] Lesley Johnston, Public System, Private Money: Fees, Fundraising and Equity in the Toronto District School Board (Toronto: Social Planning Toronto, 2011).
Students revolt: “We want our balls back!” – Toronto Star
Toronto school bans hard balls – CBC
Parents cry foul after elementary school bans balls over playground safety – National Post
I experienced many powerful moments while attending the Arts, Science and the Brain Conference last week in Toronto. The gathering, convened by Artssmarts, sought to engage participants in questions about how learning in the 21st century could be informed and enriched by current understandings of brain science.
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The visionaries on the Hall-Dennis Committee, the ones who carried the day with their 1968 report Living and Learning, set out their aims a few of which are worth repeating for their relevance in 2011:
There is more between the lines of these selected statements than in them. The first one directly challenges the Czarist power of the Minister of Education about which I commented in my blog Bossism in Public Education. The picture of a citizens’ advisory body voicing their wishes before the Legislature would surely cause heartburn among the bureaucrats who enjoy primary access to the ear of the Minister. Further, some would argue that it would be contrary to the tradition of responsible government achieved by dedicated effort in Queen Victoria’s time.
Still, citizens/parents/teachers are relatively powerless in the structure and conduct of Canadian public education. By degrees, they have turned it over to the experts. Elected school boards, which have steadily grown in size and complexity in my lifetime are, to an increasing degree, mere handmaidens of the Ministry. New Brunswick tackled this problem by abolishing the boards some years ago and replacing them with a parent advisory structure. After more changes, there are now District Councils to manage the schools much as the school boards used to do. At the provincial level, the Minister is legally bound to consult with citizens on a regular basis. It seems apt to observe Plus ca change, plus c’est la même chose. But give New Brunswick credit where it’s due – they have recognized a problem and tackled it seriously.
Ontario has mandated parent councils for every school but they have not changed by one iota the hierarchical nature of public education. The councils typically are busy with fundraising and fancying up the playground. Any really significant features of education policy and practice are beyond the purview of the councils. Nearly ten years ago when I questioned the capacity of a school council to examine and comment on the curriculum, a spokesperson for the council responded “Oh dear, we don’t want that kind of responsibility”.
So, the Hall-Dennis dream of parental engagement in policy making in education has remained a dream. Officialdom in education resist with the argument that there must be system-wide standards. In the digital age, I prefer the idea of system-wide ferment within a framework of generalized system aims.
The second of the Hall-Dennis aims quoted above has been realized to some degree. When the report was written in 1967-68, male teachers wore shirt and tie and females a skirt or dress. Males were often called “Sir”. If casualness is part of the ambience for good education, then the few surviving advocates of the Hall-Dennis philosophy can relax.
The third aim above remains an unfulfilled dream. As I explained in my Oct 12th blog, professionalism has largely eluded the teaching profession in North America. Many teachers, trapped in the no-man’s land between unionism and professionalism, are inhibited from offering leadership in education innovation and transformation – inhibited also by the all-powerful ministries of education, which continue to monopolize curriculum change.
Let me conclude this brief retrospective on the Hall-Dennis era by recollecting a few of the mess-ups of the 1970s that doomed the report to ridicule and rejection. The brief flush of excitement in Ontario resulted in a slew of experimental stuff – team teaching, audio-visual instruction, movies for social studies and language study, field trips galore. Complaints piled up about functional illiteracy and lack of readiness for the discipline of the work place or post-secondary education. The politicians seized upon the complaints so that by 1980 Hall-Dennis was breathing its last.
For me at least, Hall-Dennis is alive and well in the story of transforming public education. Here is a quotation from the report that is more current than when it was written: Unless a people is on its guard, the economic demands of society can be made to determine what is done in education. The society whose educational system gives priority to the economic over the spiritual and emotional needs of man defines its citizens in terms of economic units and in so doing debases them. There is a dignity and nobility of man that has nothing to do with economic considerations. The development of this dignity and nobility is one of education’s tasks.
Amen!
Recently I was listening to Michael Campbell’s radio show “Money Talks” and he or one of his guests referred to a quote attributed to German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer: “All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.”
My breath caught – here’s why.
My experience echoes Schopenhauer’s stages of truth.
While the second stage was indeed difficult for my colleagues and I, it isn’t images of my endurance, exhaustion or stress that remain with me; it is what one parent said and others nodded at. During a meeting meant to explain the process of assessment, to assuage worries, and inspire confidence with some upset parents, my colleagues and I explained, with visuals,
After a couple of hours we had gotten nowhere. These parents’ faces still shone red, mouths still pulled tight, and foreheads still furrowed.
Finally, a man near the back said this: You mean to tell me that if my son gets an A at the beginning of the unit and keeps getting an A at the end of the unit will get the same mark as a kid who comes in with a C and then gets better and gets an A on the stuff by the end of the unit? They both leave the unit with an A?
My colleagues and I looked at one another, unsure if we were missing something. Yes, we said. That’s what we mean.
That is total crap, said the man, to the nods of others.
Oh.
Oh, we get it now. Some parents (not all!) don’t want all children to achieve success. Some parents must enjoy the status quo, a status quo where it’s okay if other children always do badly if their sons or daughters always do well. In fact, it’s preferable.
How absolutely sad.
Fortunately, this realization deepened our commitment to using assessment as learning. Actually, that man’s anger at our approach tells me that we’re on the right track.
*Please note – while I am referring to real events the dialogue is the dialogue as I remember it; I am not working from a transcript of the meeting.
I remember clearly the first time I heard the phrase Paradigm Shift. I was sitting in an after-school staff meeting and my principal had just returned from a conference, inspired by the idea that education was about to undergo a substantial re-think.
“We’re making a move”, he declared, “And our whole way of thinking about school is about to change. We’re about to undergo a paradigm shift!”
In my first year as CEO of the CEA, I’ve had the pleasure of sharing our vision and mission with so many educators across Canada. I’ve realized that the courage it takes to provoke a shift among deeply entrenched mindsets of traditional teaching and learning is long overdue. We can all agree that we want all our young people to be ‘21st Century’ problem solvers, critical and creative thinkers, collaborators, and great communicators, but our vision for how we get there ranges from a little tinkering to a massive makeover, and most innovators face roadblocks when they push the envelope for the latter. This is why it’s time to move beyond 21st Century rhetoric and build strategies that will nurture innovation and not deter it. CEA is working hard to convince you that this transformation needs to happen.
At the 2011 CEA Council Meeting, 21st Century Learning: From Rhetoric to Reality, participants will have the opportunity to hear from three speakers who have a first-hand knowledge and experience with innovative pedagogy internationally, in a Canadian school, and in a Canadian classroom. Following presentations, speakers will explore the barriers they face in moving their innovative thinking towards more systemic transformation.
This Council meeting is not about simply assembling experts in the field of education and from the private sector together to look at what innovative practices can be. It’s about developing a deeper sense of commitment amongst the participants to finally move the discussions and debates to more pragmatic realities. Pilot projects in education have been the easiest means to demonstrate that innovation and transformation of education can occur, but rarely have these projects become systemic.
For decades, education has placed a considerable amount of resources and energy into establishing equity, especially at the student entry points. However, education stops the application of this fundamental principle and an increasing number of children leave education, either disillusioned or seriously questioning the pertinence of what they have learned. Equity of Output, ensuring that all children achieve their potential, must become the next ‘21st Century’ objective. Ensuring Equity of Output obliges all education stakeholders to focus on the establishment of new learning/teaching environments that meet the needs of all children and not only a minority of them.
This Council meeting will bring this principle to the forefront and provide a critical platform for exchange and debate on how to truly meet the needs of ALL children.
Ex-ministers review early French immersion program – CBC NB
French immersion reform ‘won’t be easy’ – CBC NB
Tory plan to review immersion panned – Fredericton Daily Gleaner
A previous blog written on October 5 was on the eve of the Ontario election that returned the Dalton McGuinty Liberals, one seat shy of a majority. The province’s second most expensive public service, education, was never really debated during the entire campaign. There was an occasional glimpse of McGuinty slapping himself on the back that Ontario had the best of all school systems. His opponents’ platforms offered only unchallenged verities. Too bad!
There is much that might have been said. It is 16 years since there was a thorough discussion of public education in the most populous province of the country. I refer to the five-volume report For the Love of Learning, 1995, Gerald Caplan and Monique Begin, which fulsomely addressed the principles and practices of Ontario schools. Two such progressive-minded persons should have paid more respect to the liberating idealism of its predecessor report, Living and Learning, 1968, Hall/Dennis. I, for one, hoped that the 1995 report would propose ways to increase the professional autonomy of teachers, open doors for students seeking more freedom to make choices, break down the subject rigidities of the curriculum, engage the community in the teaching-learning process, empower parents as auxiliaries rather than as bemused bystanders, advance the idea of children actually enjoying school – as the title of the report claimed.
But 1995 was not a time for visionaries. It was post-recession, belt tightening time. Time also to be worried about international test results (1991), which revealed Canadian 13-year-olds in ninth place in science and mathematics in a set of fifteen industrialized countries. Thus the Caplan/Begin Report (unintentionally) slammed the door on liberal thinking in the public schools and implicitly authorized the test-and-remediate style of education. The apparent need for more rigour and discipline in the classroom was such an uncomplicated concept that the politicians could grasp it with enthusiasm. Thus we are burdened with the Ontario Education Act, 1,200 pages long in fine print. http://www.e-laws.gov.on.ca/html/statutes/english/elaws_statutes_90e02_e.htm
All across North America public school teachers struggle to get their scores up based on standardized tests in reading, writing, science, mathematics, etc. Even a slight improvement in the scores is celebrated at the board offices, in the local newspapers and within the central bureaucracies even though a quarter to a third of pupils remain stubbornly below the mediocre standard set for their jurisdiction. In this numbers game, mediocrity has become the icon on the flag flying over most schools. This gloomy assessment does not do justice to all the points of light in some public schools in different parts of the country. But the bright spots , I believe, are the exception rather than the norm.
In the outcome, private schools have blossomed. According to my best estimate there are six million pupils in Canadian publicly- supported schools, a number that is falling. Meanwhile rising private school enrolment in Ontario approaches 130,000. Multiply that number by four for a rough estimate of private school enrolment in Canada as a whole, i.e. about half a million. (Stats Canada seems not to keep private school enrolment figures).
It is time for a change. What is needed is a paradigm shift in keeping with the groundbreaking social/economic/psychological drama playing out since 1995. Central to this seismic rumbling is, of course, the computer and the digital revolution. This technology has put in jeopardy the negative and out-dated hallmarks of public education – uniformity, standardization, centralization and bureaucratization. The new paradigm, on the other hand, heralds individualism, singularity and selfhood. Like death and taxes, this revolution cannot be stopped even though most schools in their structure and governance pretend not to be affected by it. Private schooling burgeons, among other reasons, either to defy the revolution or embrace it. Public schooling, at the very least, needs a major investigation into this historic, cataclysmic process now under way.
Next time, I’ll lift my head above the parapets and offer some terms of reference.
Once upon a time, when knights were bold, there were three professions: divinity, medicine and law. Now there are hundreds, possessing intellectual rigour ranging from high to low. They all boast professional accreditation and/or certification: engineers, hair dressers, realtors, opticians, brewers, surveyors, librarians, photographers, road builders, early childhood educators, teachers, etc., etc. They display framed diplomas and certificates and spend riotous hours at annual conventions. In this proliferation, the meaning of professionalism has too often been debased to mere technical know-how.
Historically, professionalism stood for intellectual independence derived from university and private study and buttressed by exemplary moral character. As things stand now, some elite professional people are very richly rewarded and some are not. It is the rarity of some professional fields that mainly accounts for high income. Sixty years ago, Dr. Alan Klass wrote a paper under the title What is a Profession? In explaining the concept of “going the extra mile” (beyond the terms of the contract), Klass wrote: “It is in this subtle area of private endeavour that a profession, in its totality, achieves greatness”.
Teachers in the public system, generally speaking, display some of the hallmarks of a modern profession – explicit academic standards, certification requirements , rules of membership, a code of ethics with a mechanism for enforcement and, not least, work contracts bargained under provincial labour codes. But a devilish fuzziness hangs over these hallmarks. Has professionalism been over-shadowed by unionism? Is it mere quibbling to ask? Does it matter one way or another to students in school and their parents?
Well, yes, it does make a difference. Witness the pell mell explosion of private schools, (private school enrolment in Canada, 1960 to 2005, grew by 357% compared with public school enrolment by 52.5%), a phenomenon partly explained by unionism in the schools. Witness the large number of persons, some now middle-aged, whose lives were messed up by a school strike. Before proceeding further, let’s be clear on one point. Teacher associations operating as unions under local labour law serve to ensure fair play, equal treatment in work assignments, promotions and pay scales. These assurances and protections contribute to good morale on the job and, therefore, to a friendly learning atmosphere in the classroom.
But there is a catch. Many teachers, trapped in the no-man’s land between unionism and professionalism, are inhibited from offering leadership in education innovation and transformation. The need for such initiatives is greater as the digital revolution envelops us. Additionally, teachers are inhibited by the all-powerful ministries of education. For example, there is almost no hope for a teacher or a group of teachers who believe they can do a better job of educating their students without the “benefit” of government standardized testing. Premier Dalton McGuinty of Ontario has treated government test results as a political talisman through the recent election campaign.
The sovereign power of the Minister goes back a long way — to the very earliest days of public education. I remember the struggle to get Ministry approval in 1961 for a pilot project in teaching history (Grades 11 and 12) without using THE textbook. The results of that project were overwhelmingly positive but fifty years later history textbooks are still with us, as with most other subjects. In the early 1970s, I listened to David Clee, head of the Curriculum and Textbooks Branch of the Ontario Department of Education announce in a speech before the Ontario Education Association that Circular 14 (the listing of approved textbooks) would be phased out within a year. David Clee was phased out instead.
New life and spirit have indeed been injected into public education in some jurisdictions,- Alberta and Quebec come to mind. And there are pockets of excellence everywhere. But the termites are deep into the woodwork everywhere, the termites in question being the stand pat effect of centralization and standardization with their deadening effect on professionalism. In an upcoming blog, I will argue the need for a major enquiry into Ontario education, one that might be a signal light for other jurisdictions.
School board to mull rewards for at-risk students – Toronto Star
Experts support rewards for at-risk students – Toronto Star

Photo by John Steven Fernandez http://www/flickr.com/photos/stevenfernandez/2370347860
I had a fascinating conversation today with my mechanic. I had brought my 2005 Toyota in for a 70 point inspection in order to help me decide whether I should hang on to it for a few more years, or whether it might be better to dump it and take advantage of the peace-of-mind offered by driving a newer model.
Tom was in a talking mood and I took advantage of his enthusiasm and knowledge. As a result, I came away with a deeper appreciation of the technology that drives the modern automobile. In particular, our conversation focused on the complex set of computer modules that are used to control almost every aspect of functionality. We spoke of body control modules, ECM’s, oxygen sensors, emission and fuel controls. For me, the discussion really became interesting when Tom explained how each of the system controls “talk” to each other, adjusting functionality and performance based on the information received from other components. I came away thinking of my car as this perfectly synchronized ecosystem, complete with a finely-tuned feedback loop designed to respond to a series of quality controls and performance indicators.
If something happens in one control system, a component somewhere else will either respond or refuse to respond. This, in turn, may trigger a response from another module which will either adjust its performance or begin a series of pre-determined tests. The final result of this process may result in the activation of an indicator light on my dashboard which, when investigated, will provide a full report on what has gone on as well as a code that can be used to find a plan of action to correct the problem.
Now, it just so happens that, while waiting for Tom to complete the inspection, I was reading our Ministry of Education’s School Effectiveness Framework (really, I was!), a support document that identifies evidence-based indicators of successful practice in a number of components of effective schools. The SEF document encourages educators at all levels of the system to use these indicators as a way of building coherence and aligning practices across an entire school.
Ontario’s SEF outlines six components ranging from assessment practices, leadership at various levels of the system, quality of classroom instruction, programs, and partnerships between school, parents and community. A great deal has been written on this site and elsewhere about each of these components, but the SEF does a nice job of bringing them together into a unified whole. But the SEF goes further by offering a series of indicators and observable points of evidence that make quality within each of the components visible and, as a result, actionable.
This is a process that is to be carried out with integrity and transparency for the purpose of promoting reflection, collaborative inquiry and ultimately improved student learning.
—Mary Jean Gallagher and Raymond Théberge(Introduction to the Ontario School Effectiveness Framework, 2010)
Just like my automobile, I came away from reading our SEF with a sense that our school systems are another type of ecosystem, made up of component parts that, when they are running smoothly and effectively, are a thing of beauty.
The School Effectiveness Framework that is now part of the drive toward quality and accountability in Ontario presents a vision for integrated, evidence-based planning and practice. It has something to say to folks working at every level of the system.
In the long term, the SEF has the potential to drive the transformation agenda for years to come. In the short term, it forces us to look beyond the political darlings that currently drive our planning agendae—large-scale assessment scores and graduation rates— and focuses our vision on the actual components that ground these narrow indicators.
Beyond that, however, the School Effectiveness Framework invites us to look at how each of the components within our modern education system is interconnected and interdependent. It’s a complex way of thinking, to be sure. At the same time, by placing our role in the system within the larger context of a tool like the SEF, our school systems become a thing of immense beauty—a marvellous type of ecosystem!
Over the next few weeks, I would like to take a closer look at Ontario’s School Effectiveness Framework, exploring each of the component parts in a little more detail. But I would also love to hear about your experience in working with this type of process in your own district, in your own province. Have you been exposed to a similar tool for effectiveness planning? Are you involved in similar conversations at the school, district or community level?
In my last blog post, I railed against excessive centralization of public education using Ontario as an example. Now it’s time to flesh out some details.
When I taught an education course at Queens University in the 1970s, I made frequent reference to the Ontario Education Act and had a copy in hand which I quoted sparingly – thus to minimize boredom. Recently, I scanned two new books about Ontario school law compiled by Jennifer Trepanier. She reveals that the current act (2010) and regulations fill up 1,200 pages of legalistic prose. This, presumably, is to be read carefully by the functionaries of the system (central bureaucrats and local administrators, political advisors, school board members, school superintendents, principals, guidance teachers, and other interested parties).
In earlier years, the purpose of the Act was to make clear that the Minister of Education, a politician, was the top dog in all matters of public education in the province. There were lots of regulations but – and this is the critical point – there was ample room for interpretation at the board and classroom levels. Not anymore. The age of monkey-see monkey-do in public education is upon us.
Here are a few examples of legislative/regulatory overkill in recent years:
These two examples with their abundant legal overtones exemplify the now-Stalinesque powers of the Minister of Education in Ontario. Presumably, other provinces and territories have cloaked the minister with comparable absolute power. The central authorities would, of course, defend this burgeoning of school law by saying that the Minister must ensure that there is consistency of treatment of pupils and teachers and parents all across the jurisdiction, that fairness and equity must be universally honoured. The question that is begged is this: Why must there be consistency in such a vast assortment of persons, places, traditions and social priorities as in Ontario? Surely the Minister should be satisfied that the elected boards respect principles of fairness and equity and, at the same time, have rules in place that respect local preferences.
My concern is that teachers on the frontline, as long as their working lives are entangled in skeins of petty provincial legal niceties, are not likely to achieve professional status. In the current circumstance, they are passive union workers adhering to the terms of the collective agreement.
Next time, I’ll offer my interpretation of teacher professionalism and explore some possibilities for its realization.
The views expressed or implied by Peter J. Hennessy are solely his own and do not necessarily reflect the views of CEA. http://www.cea-ace.ca/terms
On a recent trip to Chicago, I toured an old church built in the late 1800s. At the front of the church, an ancient Bible lay open. The pages of the Bible were decorated with intricate pictures and calligraphy. Looking at it, I marvelled at the detailed work, the perfection and visual beauty of the pages that lay before me. According to theological historians, the first copies of the Bible were created by monks who would spend up to five years transcribing older copies. These monks worked in seclusion, developing ornate and detailed calligraphic fonts and artwork to decorate their transcription of the text. A lesser known detail surrounding this work is the human weariness the monks experienced in transcribing the biblical texts. Apparently when they grew weary of rewriting the Bible, they used the margins of the pages to express themselves. The monks were known to write complaints about their tired hands, compose poetry to the monastery cat, release “less-than-holy” thoughts, and poke fun at themselves and their worlds. Through the margins, the monks expressed themselves and their personhood. The margins offered a space where the “hidden” voices of these monks could come to fullness.
Educational researchers Denzin and Lincoln suggest that over the last decades, education and educational research has moved from embracing a dominant narrative to a broader acceptance of a variety of narratives – narratives that are drawn from what was once considered the “margins” (the immigrant experience, Aboriginal voices, queer and “othered” stories, to name a few).[1] This shift, they say, is consistent with society’s (and education’s) evolution from post-modernism to post-experimentalism.
According to Denzin and Lincoln, the task of post-experimentalism is to imagine appropriate pedagogies that will allow us to embrace and work with the rich variety of narratives in the post-modern world. However, the difficulty within an educational context becomes readily apparent. How do these narratives become authentic voices within education? How do educators develop pedagogies to support non-dominant narratives? How does education move from centred and traditional pedagogies to decentred ones? A variety of educators offer suggestions to move education forward on this journey.
In their Handbook of Public Pedagogy, Educators Sandin, Schultz, and Burdick explore the idea of public pedagogy and its influence on our educational life.[2] Public pedagogy, they say, acknowledges that much of how we are educated occurs outside of our traditional educational institutions (within the margins). They suggest that the hierarchy of traditional education – housed in standards, traditionalism, and academic rhetoric – should be countered by the more progressive nuances of public pedagogy, which offers opportunities for personal and public transformation, democracy, and social justice less readily available through traditional pedagogies.
A variety of authors featured in the Handbook allude to the powerful discourses evident within the margins of society. Williams discuses the idea that hip-hop’s “nonsensical” form of entertainment, which glorifies violence, consumerism, and hyper-masculinity, offers counterhegemonic voices, autobiographical memory, and a variety of youth narratives. Sandlin and Milam suggest that “culture-jamming” (the act of resisting and recreating commercial culture in an act of reform) is a form of political theatre and discourse for society. MacGillivray and Curwen discuss the idea that tagging (or graffiti art) is a social practice with its own literacy. Springgay and Freedman discuss the relationship between artistic space and the ability to live fully in everyday life. Intrinsic to the work of these educators is the idea that non-traditional and non-centred pedagogies can provide important insights into how we can embrace narratives from the margins.
On the same trip to Chicago I visited the inner-city community where I began my teaching career. I wandered under the El Train tracks and examined the colourful and graphic graffiti that covered the dark under-sides of the concrete bridges. I explored the industrial area by my old home where depictions of urban life covered factory walls and abandoned storage containers. I wandered through the community, imagining the lives of the “taggers” (graffiti artists) who crafted this graffiti and our human need for voice and place. Many schools move by bells and schedules, curriculum documents, and standardized assessments. Many schools operate within the centred and traditional pedagogies. Movement within the margins is reserved for social justice clubs or for the occasional teacher who adopts alternative strategies.
As our society evolves, I wonder who we would attract to school and what colourful and graphic voices (both teacher and student!) would emerge if we were to decentre our educational methodologies and let the margins become centre.
[1] N. Denzin and Y. Linoln, eds., The Landscape of Qualitative Research: Theories and Issues. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, 2003).
[2] J. Sandlin, B. Schultz, and J. Burdick, eds., Handbook of Public Pedagogy: Education and Learning Beyond Schooling (New York, NY: Routledge, 2009).
In her article, “Parent Advocacy: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly,” Annie Kidder zeroes in on a classic public policy dilemma when she says, “It is very difficult, in the face of strong parent advocacy, to find a balance between the desires of individual parents or groups, and…an overall need for equity in the education system.”
These words took me back to my early involvement with public schools in Ontario, as a trustee on the now-defunct Central Algoma Board of Education (CABE) – a small, rural board east of Sault Ste. Marie that has since been swallowed up by the school board serving that city.
Unlike many larger boards, CABE didn’t have political factions and its trustees didn’t represent entrenched interest groups; trustees decided most issues by consensus before the chair called for an official vote. When there were divisive issues, they almost always involved finding the balance Kidder refers to, and local policymakers – albeit with much diminished authority – are still struggling with the same dilemmas.
How to provide for a disruptive child whose behaviour interfered with the rest of the class? Whether to close the run-down town school and bus students to the country, or the newer country school where children are already on buses and would have to go just a few miles farther? How many resources to devote to programs for gifted students when those same resources could be used to help struggling students? Entitlement vs. equity.
These questions plague those making decisions about schools because they are true dilemmas: there is no “right” answer. And, of course, it’s just such questions that bring parents and other interest groups to the fore, because if there’s no “right” answer, there must be at least two conflicting answers that seem obviously right to someone.
Making a decision in such cases becomes even more difficult because, as Kidder points out, some parents and interest groups speak more loudly and clearly than others. But volume is not a basis on which to make decisions affecting the lives of all children. The whisperers have a right to be heard as well.
Maybe that’s why I’m still in mourning for small school boards like CABE, long after the province, in its wisdom, decided to fold them into larger urban boards. It’s true, they didn’t benefit from economies of scale. It’s true, they couldn’t offer the range of programs offered in the cities. And those things do matter. But in the face of a dilemma, they were close enough to hear the whispers.
The Canadian Education Association, originally called the Dominion Educational Association, was established 120 years ago and held its first annual meeting in Montreal in July 1892, at a time when free and compulsory public education was just gaining a foothold in Canada.
The pivotal role of public education has always been to reflect the values of the present while anticipating the needs of the future. If it fails to do the former, it loses the support of the public it serves; if it fails to do the latter, it deprives the next generation of the skills and wisdom required to adapt creatively to a changing world. The trick, of course, is to get the balance right. This is most difficult during times of rapid change – times like the present, and times like the end of the nineteenth century.
It’s impossible to place a clear frame around the “industrial age”, but it is possible to argue that the CEA made its appearance on the Canadian educational stage at a time when the pressures of industrialization as a social force were first making themselves felt throughout Europe and increasingly in North America.
The challenge to both reflect the present and anticipate the future was resulting in the need to educate young people en masse with two principal goals: to create an educated citizenry capable of participating in the young democracy and to provide the labour needed to fuel an economy that was already beginning to shift from a traditional agrarian to an industrial urban base.
To that end, the founders of CEA emphasized the importance of well-educated teachers, a curriculum designed to provide students with a solid background in basic skills and Canadian history without duplication or overlap of curriculum from year to year, the need to encourage a sense of national unity and nationhood, and the need to enforce the new regulations requiring young people to attend school until the age of 15.
The early communications from CEA reflect these concerns. They also reflect the values of the time, with echoes of the stern Protestantism that gave birth to Canada’s first public education systems. A report to that first annual meeting from the association’s Resolutions Committee reflects an unflinching – today, we would say draconian – commitment to compulsory education as well as an acknowledgment of its fragility.
Your committee is greatly impressed with the prevalence of truancy and the irregular attendance of children under 15 years of age at the schools established by the Provinces for their especial benefit. In order to overcome this evil and justify the establishment of a free system of education, it is the opinion of the Committee that the laws with regard to truancy and compulsory attendance of school should be more exacting…Your committee would also recommend that where it appears that absence from school is continuous and voluntary, Industrial schools should be established for the reclamation of the incorrigible and for the punishment of juvenile offenders, in the manner of the Industrial School established at Mimico, near the city of Toronto. [Italics added.]
A bit of research shows that the Victoria Industrial School for Boys opened in Mimico in 1887, a juvenile reformatory for boys ten through 14 that “emphasized child rescue, reform through character development, moral and academic education, and vocational training.” The schedule and curriculum seem harsh by today’s standards – even by the standards of 1934, when the school was closed “amid sensational public accusations that [it] was a ‘barbarous and antiquated’ institution.”[1]
The CEA’s resolution committee of 1891 obviously saw it differently, perhaps influenced by this excerpt from Superintendent Hendrie’s first annual report on the school:
It seemed a curious undertaking to erect a school for these waifs without bar or cell or hardly a whip…This school differs from a reformatory in that it is in no sense a prison, and the boys are not sent down as criminals, neither are they turned loose upon the world at the expiration of a fixed term, but are apprenticed to some trusty farmer or mechanic… Poor ‘bags of bones’, found in a deplorable state, have acquired the home feeling and habits of industry and obedience in the kindly atmosphere of the School.[2]
This 19th century attitude toward and “solution” to the problems of truancy may tempt us to judge the actions of the past by standards of the present. Certainly they do not reflect the values of educators in 2011, when free and compulsory public education is an undisputed social value, and educators would be loathe to use words like “incorrigible” and “evil” to describe students or their behaviour. But it may not be too big a stretch to see the CEA’s current initiatives to measure and improve student engagement as arising from concerns similar to the organizational founders’ concerns with truancy.
Like them, we are facing a dramatic shift in the demands of the economy, requiring a new level of student commitment to learning for a future that is unfolding in ways we cannot fully anticipate. Like them, we see the next generation entering a period of profound social and political change – in this case on a global scale. The problems of “truancy” occupy the minds of today’s educators less than concerns about lack of engagement – a kind of social and intellectual truancy that threatens the future of our young people much as failure to obtain the basics of elementary education threatened the future of Canada’s youth in 1891.
While we do not sentence the disengaged to reformatories, we do sentence them to lives divorced from the opportunity for full participation in the social and economic fabric of the nation. The need for full engagement in the learning process, rather than institutional structures, is the imperative that drives public education in the 21st century.
[1] http://correctionsontario.tripod.com/Mimico%20History/History%20of%20Mimico%20CC.htm
[2] Ibid.
Every morning, Kendra wakes at dawn to the sound the Kulong Cho River rushing through the valley. She has mastered the art of tying her Kira and dresses quickly in the early morning light. As the sun rises, she finishes correcting the student papers she set aside the night before. At eight o’clock she begins the walk to school, meeting many students along the way, all of whom bow and shout “Good Morning, Madam!” before running away in giggles.
The day begins slowly as students busy themselves doing mandatory Socially Useful and Productive Work. Eventually, Kendra and her students make their way to morning assembly, which opens with a group prayer for wisdom and one minute of meditation, and ends with announcements and the singing of the national anthem. The students’ voices echo through the assembly hall. The school day has begun.
Kendra’s classes go by quickly; two Grade 5 Math classes, one Grade 7 English class, and a section of Values Education. She doesn’t have many resources to teach math so she uses rocks for division and pasta noodles for geometry. Her students don’t mind. Seventh period comes and goes, but the day is not over. Today is Math Club day and there are 40 eager Grade 5 students waiting to learn about negative numbers, fractions, decimals, and ratios. Eventually, Kendra walks home in the twilight, tired and happy.
Kendra is one of an adventurous and dedicated group of Canadian teachers working in Bhutan, one of the most isolated countries in the world. She is part of an effort to combat a growing teacher shortage and support an education system that is undergoing transformative change.
Known to the western world as “the land of happiness” or “the last Shangri-la,” Bhutan is a magical and mysterious place where Buddhist values prevail and the majestic peaks of the Himalayan Mountains are part of every landscape. Sandwiched between two giants, China and India, it is also a country that works diligently to promote Bhutanese culture and preserve ancient traditions, while seeking prosperity and peace for its citizens.
Education is believed to be vital to this mission, as it is to the thoughtful development of the country. Today, Bhutan remains the youngest democracy in the world, having adopted a constitutional monarchy in 2008. It is the country’s commitment to the continual improvement of education that, in 2010, resulted in the placement of six Canadian teachers in rural villages throughout Bhutan. In 2011, this number more than doubled, with 13 Canadian teachers and eight native-English speaking teachers of other nationalities teaching in remote public schools across the country.
This is not the first time Canadians have had a hand in supporting education in Bhutan. The legacy of Canadian involvement dates back to 1963, when Father William Mackey, a Canadian Jesuit, entered Bhutan for the first time and established Bhutan’s first high school in the remote reaches of the country’s Eastern region. Over the next 26 years, Mackey worked tirelessly to develop secular education in the country. Between 1985 and 1991, over 40 Canadian teachers were sent to schools in Bhutan through World University Service (WUSC). Author Jamie Zeppa documented her time as a WUSC volunteer in Bhutan in her best-selling novel, Beyond the Earth and the Sky: A Journey into Bhutan.
Today, much of Canada’s involvement in providing educators to Bhutan is carried on through the work of The Bhutan Canada Foundation (BCF), a Canadian charity working in partnership with the Ministry of Education in Bhutan to encourage the growth of Bhutan’s system of universal education. Teaching in Bhutan is unique among international assignments because the language of instruction is English, with the national language, Dzongkha, used to teach only a handful of subjects.
In April, a colleague and I had the opportunity to travel to Bhutan to see these teachers in action. For two weeks we snaked our way across the country by auto, teetering on the edge of sheer drops and dodging the ever-present threat of rock slides, as we climbed Bhutan’s highest mountain passes and visited some of the country’s most remote communities. We saw schools perched on rocky ridges, in tiny villages, attended by boarding students from all over the country who have left the family home in pursuit of education.
This dedication to education is immediately apparent in even the most isolated communities. In many schools it is not uncommon for children to walk an hour or more each way to and from school. Ian, an Australian national who teaches English to students in Grades 4, 5, and 8 at Rangjung Lower Secondary School, told us of one boy who walks seven kilometers each way every day, up and down a steep mountain path. “The students’ dedication is just amazing,” he said.
Classrooms overflow with eager students; however, in many cases, the teacher supply is simply not enough to meet demand. According to the Ministry of Education in Bhutan, the country currently faces a shortage of nearly 1,000 teachers, primarily in rural areas. Teachers placed in Bhutan through BCF are part of a solution to address this shortage, with teachers now in eighteen different communities across the country.
For these teachers, all of whom work for a local salary and live in basic conditions, the initial incentive to teach in Bhutan varies. For some, teaching in Bhutan was an opportunity to discover an ancient culture, while for others it was a chance to share professional knowledge with a developing education system. Regardless of what gave these teachers the initial push to journey to Bhutan, their motivation to stay comes directly from the students.
“I love teaching here because the students are so wonderful. They want to learn, they are funny, and they are very respectful,” said Julia, a Special Education teacher in Mongar.
Indeed, the culture of respect in Bhutan can come as a bit of a shock to teachers when they arrive. When Nick – now in his second year at Jigme Sherubling Higher Secondary School in Khaling – first began teaching in Bhutan, the deferential nature of his students surprised him. An early classroom experience, documented on Nick’s personal blog, serves as an illustration.
“My first exposure to the Bhutanese educational culture came the second I stepped through the classroom door. There was a shuffle of chairs against the wooden floor, every student popped out of their seat, and at the top of their lungs and in perfect unison they all yelled, “Good morning, sir!”
Perhaps, the feature of Bhutanese education that Canadian teachers find most unique is the effort to integrate the development concept of Gross National Happiness into both curriculum and school culture.
But perhaps, the feature of Bhutanese education that Canadian teachers find most unique is the effort to integrate the development concept of Gross National Happiness into both curriculum and school culture.
In recent years the concept of Gross National Happiness (GNH) has garnered global attention as an alternative to the standard practice of measuring the quality of a country through Gross Domestic Product (GDP). In contrast to GDP, which uses the market value of goods and services produced within a country to indicate quality of life in that country, GNH proposes a more holistic approach to measuring the quality of life of a country’s citizens. GNH is supported by four pillars: sustainable development, promotion and preservation of culture, conservation of environment, and good governance, with education seen as the glue that holds the enterprise together. As a result, the integration of GNH principles into learning environments has become a key objective of the Ministry of Education and school administrators, as they work to create GNH learning environments for all Bhutanese children by 2012.
At the Educating for Gross National Happiness international workshop held in Thimphu in December of 2009, Prime Minister Lyonchhen Jigmi Yoser Thinley shared his vision of GNH education, the aspiration of which is “to see young people graduate from our educational system with a deeply felt care for nature and for each other, steeped in their culture, seeing reality clearly, living in harmony with the natural world and with their neighbors, and acting wisely for the benefit of all beings.” During the conference, international educators were charged with making GNH in education a reality by identifying practical steps to infuse the concept into daily school life. Today, more than two years after the workshop was held, Canadian teachers in Bhutan are seeing the results of the early stages of GNH education.
“We have weekly themes integrated with GNH philosophy, on which students prepare speeches daily. For example, the GNH values of cooperation, fairness, and sharing,” said Shauna, a teacher at Bartsham Middle Secondary School.
Other teachers see GNH in action in their schools through daily school-wide meditation, GNH infused curriculum and lesson plans, bulletin boards and posters promoting GNH values, and monthly GNH faculty meetings.
Shauna’s husband, Julian, teaches at Bartsham Primary, a school recognized as a leader in GNH implementation and environmental conservation. In 2010, students at Bartsham Primary organized a community-wide cleaning campaign that earned 45,000 Nu ($1,000) through the sale of metal scraps. The school then used this money to replace old blackboards with a more environmentally-friendly green board alternative. Bartsham Primary currently runs a number of GNH based environmental initiatives, including a tree planting program, a clean water campaign, and a school beautification project. The idea, says Bartsham Primary School principal Pema Norbu, is that “creating lovely places for our children to study will go a long way towards achieving and imparting the values and the main principles of Gross National Happiness.”
While GNH learning environments are sure to encourage vibrant and active learning, the truth is that amongst Bhutanese students, education is already highly prized.
On our last day in Bhutan we accompanied Maureen, a veteran teacher from British Columbia whose husband, John, teaches high school in the same community, to one of her classes at Wamrong Lower Secondary School. Within minutes of our arrival a group of 30 curious students had us surrounded, asking question after question. As the period came to an end we asked the departing students, most of whom come from local farming families, if they liked school. Many nodded timidly until finally one brave student spoke up and said, “Education is like gold, Madam.”
Although they are teaching a world away from Canada, in a country where the way of life could not be more different, these Canadian teachers feel right at home. Shauna and Julian have embraced Bhutan’s incredible outdoors by trekking the countryside in their free time, Kendra has learned how to make traditional Bhutanese dishes, and John and Maureen have learned to speak the local dialect of their community.
Of course they are making sacrifices to teach in Bhutan – giving up a year’s salary, living far away from family and friends, enduring bucket baths, electricity shortages, and a limited variety of food. However, the reward of teaching in a developing education system, where new ideas, strategies, and approaches are welcomed and the impact of a foreign teacher is evident throughout an entire community, far outweighs the challenges.
“It was possibly the most satisfying teaching experience in my whole career. I was able to use my skills and experience, and could see the positive results of my work,” said Ann, a retired teacher and BCF alumnus who taught in Mongar.
Now that she has returned home, Ann says that, in the end, she learned much more from Bhutan and its people than she taught.
“I feel that I came away from Bhutan a much richer person. The students, my colleagues, and my neighbours taught me a great deal about Bhutanese culture. More importantly, immersion in that culture also taught me a lot about myself. Bhutanese people are the warmest, kindest, most generous people I have met anywhere in the world. They will always be in my heart.”
EN BREF – Les écoles du Bhoutan débordent d’élèves enthousiastes, mais elles manquent souvent de personnel enseignant. The Bhutan Canada Foundation (BCF) est un organisme de bienfaisance canadien qui collabore avec le ministère de l’Éducation du Bhutan, envoyant des enseignantes et des enseignants canadiens dans les régions éloignées, où ils gagnent un salaire local et vivent dans des conditions de base. L’aspect de l’éducation bhoutanaise que les enseignantes et enseignants canadiens trouvent la plus unique est l’intégration du concept du bonheur national brut (BNB) au curriculum et dans la culture scolaire. L’objectif, c’est que les jeunes obtiennent leurs diplômes du système d’éducation en ayant acquis un souci profond de la nature, un grand respect des autres, une sensibilisation à leur culture, une vision claire de la réalité, en vivant en harmonie avec le monde naturel et avec leurs voisins et voisines, en agissant avec sagesse au profit de tous les êtres. Ce concept est inculqué dans les classes au moyen de thèmes hebdomadaires intégrés à la philosophie du BNB, de méditation à l’échelle de l’école, de même que d’un curriculum et de leçons infusés du BNB.
Excerpts from an interview with Annie Kidder, Executive Director of People for Education.