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- Herausgeber: John Wiley & Sons
- Kategorie: Bildung
- Sprache: Englisch
Your formula for managing innovation and transforming learning #EdJourney: A Roadmap to the Future of Education is a refreshing change from the negativity so common in the world of education today. Over the course of a 3-month solo road trip across the United States, author Grant Lichtman discovered that there is much to be positive about in today's K-12 schools. Lichtman, one of the country's leading experts in educational innovation, interviewed over 600 teachers, administrators, students, parents, and trustees to find out what kind of innovations they're doing right--and how others can leverage their successes. Innovation in education takes hard work, planning, and cooperation. With examples from around the country and findings from the latest education research, #EdJourney maps out how administrators and teachers can embrace the innovation process that schools and learners need now. Today's 21st century education presents unique challenges and opportunities to students, and this is a trailblazing practical guide to making sure education is ready for the future. #EdJourney focuses on four key questions: * What new learning strategies are the top schools implementing to prepare our students for their future rather than for our past? * How do teachers and administrators manage transitions to new types of teaching and learning? * What are the key obstacles to shifting away from the assembly line model of education? * How can we all leverage the lessons of success from the most innovative schools? The concrete examples and advice in this book will help you bring innovation and educational design concepts into your school. #EdJourney goes beyond the theoretical need for change--by now a familiar topic to almost everyone--and takes a real-world approach to achieving transformative education in any school.
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Contents
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Introduction
Part One: Roadblocks
Chapter 1: Time
Our Most Precious Resource
Why Is Time Chopped Up?
Reimagining the School Calendar
Making Time an Elective
Molding Time to Purpose
Time for Adult Collaboration
Bringing the Outside In
Chapter 2: People
Risk, Fear, and a Growth Mindset
Constant Growth
Teacher as Lead Learner
Desire to Learn
Finding and Hiring Innovators
Building an Innovative Teaching Team
New Paths of Professional Development
Growth
Is
the Job Description
Chapter 3: Leadership
Courage to Change
The Nature of Leadership in Schools
Aligning Resources with Vision
Making Change Sustainable
Breaking the Aversion to Risk
Communication
Chapter 4: Structure
What Is Organizational Innovation?
Linking Resources to Vision
Empowering Distributed Authority
Acting Small
Networks and Teams
Overcoming Organizational Fear of Risk
Speeding the Rate of Change
What Do Innovative School Structures Look Like?
Chapter 5: More Bumps in the Road
The Students Are Changing
Inertia
Inward Focus
Communicating the Value Proposition
Working the Problem Ourselves
Part Two: Blazing the Trail
Chapter 6: Schools Are More Dynamic
Listen to the Students
Why Do We Go to School?
Students Own the Learning
Blending Content and Skills
Reaching Every Student, Every Day
Chapter 7: Schools Are More Adaptable
Adapting to a Changing World
Improvising Learning
Changing Perspectives
Breaking Silos of Subject Matter
Starting with Interests, Not Standards
Hacking School
Chapter 8: Schools Are More Permeable
Where We Learn
The Classroom Across the Street
The Virtual Classroom
The Regional Classroom
The World Classroom
Making New Friends
Chapter 9: Schools Are More Creative
Creativity
Creational Thinking
Synergy
Design Thinking
Building from Ideas
Creating Content and Textbooks
Chapter 10: Schools Are Self-Correcting
The Busy Day
Empathy
Mindfulness
Stopping
Finding Time
Part Three: The Road Ahead
Chapter 11: The Existential Challenge for Schools
Shoshana Zuboff: Mutation and Disrupted Capitalism
Marina Gorbis: Rise of a Socialstructed World
Adrian Bejan: Knowledge Flow and the Constructal Law
Gary Hamel: Balancing Our Innovation Portfolio
Chapter 12: Leaving the Past Behind
The Assembly Line
Understanding the Problem
Efficiency
Simplicity
Manage and Control
Measurement
Scalability
Repeatability
Upgradable
Chapter 13: A Better Model
Natural Ecosystems
Evolution
Diversity
Interconnectedness
Resilience
Permeability
Free Flow of Energy and Resources
Building Structures
Is Your School an Ecosystem?
Exemplars
A Fundamental Change
Chapter 14: Taking Action
New Paths to Strategy
Operationalizing Innovation
Creating Value
Setting Innovation Horizons
Zero-Based Strategic Thinking
Chapter 15: Signposts
Wisdom
Pedagogy
Leadership
Aligning Systems
Finding and Developing People
Anchors, Dams, and Silos
Not So Hard
Frequency and Amplitude
Magnitude
Rhythm
Student Ownership
Bell Curve
In the Coming Year . . .
References
Index
End User License Agreement
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Guide
Cover
Table of Contents
Begin Reading
#EdJourney
A ROADMAP TO THE FUTURE OF EDUCATION
Grant Lichtman
Cover Design: Wiley
Sky photograph © Roman Sigaev | Thinkstock
Road sign photograph © trekandshoot | Shutterstock
Compass image © freesoulproduction | Canstockphoto
Copyright © 2014 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc. All rights reserved.
Published by Jossey-Bass
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Lichtman, Grant, 1956-
EdJourney : a roadmap to the future of education/Grant Lichtman.
pages cm
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-1-118-89858-1 (cloth)
ISBN 978-1-118-89887-1 (ebk.)
ISBN 978-1-118-89888-8 (ebk.)
1. School improvement programs. I. Title.
LB2822.8.L54 2014
371.2'07—dc23
2014013590
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Grant Lichtman has thought, taught, and written about transformational education for more than 20 years. His first book, The Falconer: What We Wish We Had Learned in School, is based on his seminar in problem solving, strategy, and creational thinking in which he and his students explore a novel interpretation of The Art of War. Grant spent fifteen years as a senior administrator, trustee, and teacher at Francis Parker School in San Diego, one of the largest independent schools in the United States. He consults with, keynotes, and facilitates workshops with both private and public schools and school groups. He is currently senior fellow of the Martin Institute for Teaching Excellence, a Memphis-based public-private partnership for educational professional growth, and a collaborating consultant with the National Business Officers Association.
Before working in education, Grant directed business ventures in the oil and gas industry in the former Soviet Union, South America, and the US Gulf Coast. Grant graduated from Stanford University with a BS and MS in geology and studied the deep ocean basins of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans and the Bering Sea. Grant and his wife, Julie, live in Poway, twenty miles north of downtown San Diego. Their son, Josh, is a PhD candidate in systems biology at Stanford. Their daughter, Cassidy, graduated with her BA in political science and MA in history from Stanford, and is currently a member of the USA National Volleyball Team.
Grant’s Prius is in fine shape, with just over 115,000 miles on the odometer as of this writing.
For Julie, Josh, and Cassidy, without whom my journeys don’t exist
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am grateful to the faculty, students, and administrators, many of whom I had not met in advance, who took time out of their busy days to facilitate my visits to their schools on this trip, or who have talked to me via phone and video chat; and for the even larger number who have attended subsequent workshops and events where we have exchanged and refined ideas. This book is a representation of their work, every day, in the service of our students.
My trip was sponsored by generous donations from the Martin Institute for Teaching Excellence, WhippleHill, Lake/Flato Architects, and Bickmore Risk Management Services. I am thankful to those who took me into their homes or provided a night’s lodging at a local hotel. A number of the schools I visited were kind enough to donate small stipends to help cover trip expenses.
Having met with and interviewed more than six hundred people on this trip, it is impossible to thank all of those who have contributed to my thinking. Many are cited in the narratives that fill these chapters, but many more contributed, and I am equally indebted to all who took the time to meet and talk with me.
Both along the way and in many other ways before and after this journey, I have been supported by a remarkable network of educators who freely share their ideas in pursuit of a transformed learning experience for our children. Two friends and colleagues in particular supported my work over a number of years, well before anyone else thought that some of these ideas had value. Bo Adams urged me to take this journey and spent hours each week conducting and uploading video interviews with me to chart my progress. Jill Gough has been one of my most passionate supporters for years, especially as an advocate and practitioner of the art of questioning. Bo, Jill, and Alyssa Gallagher read a preview of the manuscript and contributed very helpful comments.
Other educational thought leaders who are not cited in the book but who have greatly contributed to and directed my thinking include Jamie Baker, Greg Bamford, Pat Bassett, Jennifer Bjornstad, Suzie Boss, Don Buckley, Holly Chesser, Earl Cleope, Laura Deisley, Bill Dunkel, Michael Ebeling, Keith Evans, Peter Gow, Lee-Anne Grey, Scott Griggs, Chris Harrington, Josie Holford, Megan Howard, Ken Kay, Brad Lichtman, Jonathan Martin, Bob Ogle, Dave Ostroff, Billy Peebles, Jay Rainey, Meenoo Rami, Gretchen Reed, Will Richardson, Diane Ryan, Jeff Shields, Thomas Steele-Maley, Chris Thinnes, John Thorsen, Bernie Trilling, Sonya Wrisley and the Design 39 Campus team, Laura Vetter, and Yong Zhao. In addition to those named are the hundreds of educators who have participated in many workshops where we have generated ideas for the future success of schools, many of whom have contributed to the synthesized suggestions I am now putting forward.
I am particularly thankful to Shoshana Zuboff for taking the time to meet with me, share and refine my ideas on emerging trends in educational consumerism, and provide me access to both her published works and her work in process. I am also grateful to Adrian Bejan for his communications and clarifications of the constructal law and how it might apply to emerging structures of a more connected system of information age education.
I am extraordinarily grateful to Kate Bradford at Jossey-Bass for taking on my project as editor, for her thoughtful comments and guidance, and to the entire Jossey-Bass/Wiley publishing team for giving me the opportunity to publish under their legendary name.
Most of all I am grateful to my wife, Julie, who did not try to dissuade me from taking an open-ended and unusual trip, supported me in jumping off into a new career, and put up with by far the longest time we have been apart in the past thirty years.
INTRODUCTION
The veteran administrator at the end of a crowded conference table held her head in her hands.
“It shouldn’t be this hard.”
I left Charleston late that afternoon on the four-hour drive to Greenville. Over the past eight weeks I had visited more than fifty public and private schools on my solo drive around the country, and at many of these schools I had the same discussion about how organizational change is hard, particularly in schools with strong traditions of success or those subject to the fierce winds that blow from every point of the political compass. It is black-letter law on the subject of organizational innovation: Change is hard. Change brings displacement and even grief; it takes a long time; and all of that is OK. Every school I visited is undergoing some form of organizational and cultural change, and at almost every one, the forces opposing change seem to be at least holding their own against the brushfires of innovation. So we talked about the obstacles and disruptions of change, surfacing those points of difficulty, taking them from the shadows and admitting their power.
As I chased the setting sun westward through the rolling late-fall piney woods of South Carolina, I had a moment of epiphany, the fulcrum of my trip, two-thirds in the rearview mirror and still four thousand miles to go. It must have been the last two books I had read: Armageddon, the story of the Berlin airlift, by Leon Uris, and War, the story of a year at forward operating base Restrepo in the Kharangal Valley of Afghanistan, by Sebastian Junger.
Kicking the Nazis out of Europe was hard. That was what my father’s generation did. That was really hard stuff.
The Berlin airlift was hard. Homesteading the Kansas prairie was hard. The list kept growing in my head, each idea so vivid I knew I did not need to pull the car over to a rest stop to write them down.
Going to the moon
.
Giving birth after twenty-four hours of labor
.
Raising kids in poverty as a single mom
.
Standing your post at a firebase in the grit of the Kharangal Valley for a year
.
Saying goodbye to your child as he deploys to spend that year
.
Those are hard.
Change at most schools is not hard; it is uncomfortable. Sometimes it might be very uncomfortable for some people. It can be messy, complicated, and tiresome. Uncomfortable means making some tough decisions. But using the excuse that we can’t change schools because “it is hard”?—well, we need to get some perspective on the difference between hard and uncomfortable. Hard is fighting against every odd with no certainty of success or even of survival. The job ahead for Eric Juli, principal of the Design Lab school in the heart of the most depressed, gang-ridden section of Cleveland, is hard. This is a school with one floor in a crumbling old building, where Eric spends most of his day finding a snack for a pregnant girl who did not get breakfast or pants for a boy whose one pair is just too dirty for decency, a school where the teachers don’t come to school and the students don’t care—and yet Eric is going to change that learning experience against every force imaginable and won’t rest until every graduate gets an acceptance to college. That’s hard.
My Journey
For eighty-nine days I drove my 1997 Prius around the country visiting sixty-four public and private schools. I interviewed more than six hundred teachers, administrators, students, and parents, asking them the same basic questions:
What does innovation mean to you?
How has your school changed to meet the challenges of a rapidly changing world?
Is your school organized more for the benefit of the children or the adults?
What do we really need to teach and learn in schools, and how are you doing that?
What does that look like?
What has worked?
What has not?
The night before I set out on this trip, I packed the back of my car, got ready to leave my wife for the longest separation we have had in thirty years, and wrote in my journal:
Tomorrow morning before dawn I will drive off for three months on the road. I will miss my wife, Julie, who is putting up with the unknowns of this journey as much as I am. The last time I did something like this, I was single, twenty-four, filled a backpack with a few clothes and many rolls of film, and bought a one-way ticket to Kathmandu. My goal then was to have no goal, to see, learn, absorb, and understand a world far removed from that in which I had grown up. That journey took me through much of southern Asia, steered me into a teaching and research opportunity in the Philippines, and set my rudder in many ways for the rest of my life. Now, much older, back, joints, and patience less well attuned to sleeping on train platforms, my new step-off journey will be more physically comfortable. Sixty-dollar hotels may not be luxurious, but they are warm, dry, and safe. And of course I have already received hospitable and welcoming invitations to visit with many thoughtful and innovative educators . . . welcome mats mitigate discomfort in so many ways!
Though separated by thirty-two years and 180 degrees of longitude, in one way these two journeys are similar. My goal is still to see, learn, absorb, and understand. My questions may be more focused after three decades of thinking, writing, teaching, and talking about how and why we learn, but I will try to be just as open to what the journey has to teach me as I was when my belongings filled a backpack, not the back of a Prius.
What This Book Is About
Our world is changing at a dramatic rate, and nowhere more rapidly than in relationship to the creation and management of knowledge. Public or private, across a range of structures, grade levels, traditions, demographics, and resource bases, K–12 schools share a number of common obstacles in “pro-acting” and reacting to these changes, and are overcoming those obstacles in ways that can be translated and leveraged by most or all schools. The future of education is being created right now, today. I know because I saw it and talked to the adults and students who are creating it. It is not an easy process, and the obstacles to change are big and real. But schools across the country are painting the strokes of a fundamentally different and better type of student learning. Taken together, these different strokes make up the picture of what that learning looks like and how we get there.
A number of authors have written compelling books that show us what good education looks like at a few schools. I take a different approach in looking at a large number of schools, connecting the common threads of great education at many of them, and charting a roadmap not only of what transformed learning for the future looks like, but also of how school leaders and organizations can get there. I didn’t send out a survey or do phone interviews with a few dozen schools and educators who are leading educational change. I did not even select most of the schools I visited based on their track record of innovation. I visited schools along my route and asked them about their definition of innovation, about their paths, obstacles, and successes. I watched and listened to hundreds of teachers, administrators, students, and parents, some who had planned to meet with me weeks in advance and others who I stopped in the hall or observed informally from the back of their classroom. These are their stories, voices, and pathways to the future. To use a metaphor that will crop up throughout the book, my goal is to link the many wonderful, exciting, stimulating, energizing, passion-driven brushfires of innovation I found at almost every school I visited and help fan them into a conflagration.
Thirty years ago I sat down and asked myself a simple question: What defines great learning? I had no formal background in education other than my own experience as a student and a bit of teaching. I am only a little embarrassed to admit that I had never read Dewey or Piaget or Bloom. I decided that great teaching and learning required much more focus on student engagement and direction; students asking questions instead of regurgitating answers; students and teachers co-creating knowledge instead of consuming it; teaching systems thinking; problem finding instead of just problem solving. Some very prominent educators told us at the time, “You can’t teach that to students; they won’t get it.” Unfortunately we let those supposedly bright people sway us from what we knew was right.
As we entered a new century, bright educators and forward-looking people from many walks of life made the argument that the world was changing at a dramatic rate, the economic and social worlds have flattened, and technology has irrevocably disrupted traditional knowledge-based industries, including education. They said we needed to prepare students with a different set of skills, those needed for the twenty-first century. While I did not agree that these skills are any more relevant to this century than to any other time in human history, the conversation had suddenly changed.
The Goal of Education Has Changed
Today, most thoughtful educators agree that the industrial age model of content-driven education no longer serves our students. Here is the remarkably simple argument in a nutshell. The rate of change in the world is accelerating, and nowhere more than with respect to information. The sum of all human knowledge will soon be doubling every year, a frightening concept even if you are not good at math. Schools in the past have been tasked with teaching human knowledge to the next generation, knowledge young people can use to conduct themselves later in life in civil society. It is no longer possible to convey the amount of information they will need or to be certain that the information we do convey will be relevant for very long. Technology has made knowledge nearly universally accessible, disrupting the foundation of education that has existed since people first gathered around fires thousands of years ago. The goal of education has changed from the transfer of knowledge to the inculcation of wisdom, born of experience, which will help students to succeed in an increasingly ambiguous future. Schools must either radically change what they do or very quickly become utterly irrelevant. If schools do not change, they will simply be bypassed, an outmoded mechanism that has served its purpose and passed into history. Simply, in order to not only survive but thrive, schools must develop comfort with, and capacity for, ongoing change.
If you are an educator, or if you care about the future of education and have a stake in education because you are a parent or an employer and know that our current system of education is rapidly losing relevancy, this book is for you.
How the Book Is Organized
The book has three sections. The first section identifies major obstacles to educational innovation that were most commonly reported in my visits, giving examples of schools that have successfully overcome those very same obstacles. Here are a few of the highlights:
Time in schools is allocated according to an outdated assembly-line model based on subject, classroom space, and student age, not on optimum conditions for improved learning of each student.
Schools are not fundamentally structured to accommodate or promote connectivity, risk taking, and nimbleness, skills the students will need in their futures and characteristics that will lead to schools to effectively innovate.
Teachers are not given the time and resources to develop professionally, to connect with colleagues outside of narrow ranges of interest, or to become active learners.
Leadership is frequently stuck in rigid, outmoded “Management 1.0” practices that are antithetical to innovation in knowledge-based organizations.
Outcomes in both public and private schools are currently driven by inertia, college admissions offices, fearful parents, and political forces, not by the best practices of education and learning.
The good news is that for every combination of intransigent obstacles there is an example of a school that has successfully solved the problem. I will connect these dots of success. At nearly every school I visited, I identified processes, structures, and practices that have helped schools overcome the obstacles to innovation. Many of these schools are operating in a radically different fashion than they were just five years ago. These schools are finding creative ways to align five key resources (time, people, space, knowledge, and money) in ways that support desired teaching and learning outcomes. Class schedules are changed, sometimes radically, in order to allow and promote a pedagogy that is deep, contextual, and focused on the student, not the teacher. Leaders courageously promote risk taking and set up intentional, sustainable structures, processes, and lines of authority that promote the best practices of innovation. Leaders hire employees more for their ability and willingness to grow and learn over time than for content expertise and find the time and money to help those adults continuously upgrade their expertise as educators. These schools recognize that the options for education are radically expanding, so they focus on delivering value to their student and family customers.
The second section paints a mosaic of a dramatically changing learning experience taking place in schools that are successfully innovating. I found that we can group these brushfires of innovation into five categories that, together, define the learning experience of the postindustrial age:
Dynamism:
Teachers and students use time and space in dramatically new ways. They take advantage of new knowledge about how the brain works and how individuals learn, leveraging technology to differentiate the learning experience for each individual child. Teachers and students are co-learners, with students taking increasing ownership of their learning experience.
Adaptability:
Teachers develop a growth mindset, not just tolerating but actively embracing a level of constant change that reflects the world outside of class. Courses change and merge, and the boundaries of departments and subjects disappear. Teachers figure out how to improve standards-based outcomes with project, group, and student-centered activities.
Permeability:
School programs, and in fact physical schools themselves, are highly permeable, with students and teachers spending significant time off campus, in their communities and, through technology, connected with other knowledge participants around the world. In fact, the concept of “school” as differentiated from the “real world” disappears.
Creativity:
Learning increasingly emphasizes the creation of knowledge along with a balanced consumption of foundational elements of a liberal arts education. Students lead their own learning through design of problems, activities, and even course materials. Students and teachers become creators as well as consumers of knowledge.
Self-correction:
The institution becomes self-evolving, not slave to conflicting outside forces that are de-linked from educational best practices. Students and teachers take time for frequent and authentic reflection. They embrace the concept of empathy as a guiding beacon in what they teach and learn. They gain comfort with constant change and learn to break or avoid the chains of inertia.
Each chapter is fleshed out with concrete examples of schools and teachers who have already implemented and reimagined the learning experience.
The third section begins with a description of the global challenges that face education and a roadmap for how schools must retool their foundational assumptions to meet those challenges. The changes that futurists see in the evolution of education are dramatically larger than those being contemplated by most educators. We are perched on the cusp of two fundamentally different learning systems: the industrial age assembly-line model that has been in place for 150 years, and the evolving ecosystem model that more accurately reflects our best understanding of effective education for the future. The reason so many educators and parents are frustrated with our current educational system is that the characteristics of these two systems are incompatible; we can’t get where we want to go by just tweaking the controls on the assembly line. The driving characteristics of dynamism, adaptability, permeability, creativity, and self-correction are more closely aligned with the driving mechanisms of successful natural ecosystems, of rain forests, coral reefs, and prairie grasslands, not engineered assembly lines. Those who continue to try to cram the square peg of the industrial model and mindset into the round hole of learning for the future will become increasingly marginalized.
The penultimate chapter outlines the case for a forward-looking strategy for school communities based on a foundation of new design thinking. Since I finished my journey around the country I have been privileged to facilitate workshops with hundreds of educators who, given the opportunity, find many ways to challenge and reimagine the concept of what we call “school.” The new foundation of what I call zero-based strategic thinking helps school communities to continuously, systematically, and sustainably increase the value of what they do well, instead of working from outdated models of strategic planning that largely revise goals based on legacy assumptions about what has and has not worked well in the past. Strategy becomes a continuous process of thinking, an organizational habit and capability that promotes ongoing innovation practices among all of the valued and valuable members of the school community.
The final chapter summarizes what I think are the big takeaways from my work and this book.
A Few Clarifications
I want to be clear on several points at the outset:
The discussion of what good education
should
look like for the twenty-first century has run its course, and I am not going to reargue it. For more than a decade, educators and pundits have been discussing what good education looks like in the twenty-first century. I have sat with hundreds of thoughtful educators, students, and parents and asked them what they think students need to be successful in their future. Many more thousands of such discussions have taken place in schools across the country. Nearly all of them end up with about 80 percent agreement on a list of skills that looks something like this: persistence, confidence, resilience, patience, openness, creativity, adaptability, courage, perspective, empathy, and self-control. (By the way, high school seniors at three schools in Dallas generated that short list. It took them a total of nine minutes.) We need to agree that this is a good approximation of the skills our young people need to survive in the future. We need to stop talking about what “it” is, and start
doing
“it.”
Innovation is not about technology. In setting up the complicated calendar for my trip I asked school leaders to give me a few hours to learn about their most exciting new ideas and programs. Many asked me, “What do you want to see?” I left it to them with the caveat that I was not interested in talking about 1:1 laptop programs and iPad rollouts. Plenty of others have researched and written extensively about the role of technology in a new learning paradigm. In many visits I asked principals, heads of school, and other leaders this question: “If I walked down the halls today and asked all of your teachers, ‘What does innovation mean to you?’ how many would immediately default to something about technology?” Many nodded their heads, knowing this to be the case. We still think of technology too much as the goal of innovation and not a tool. Technology provides some of the arrows in the quiver of innovation. Real innovation in learning means reframing the mindset of the archers—the students and teachers—and that is the subject of this book.
Change leadership busts, rather than reinforces, the silos of classroom and the administration office. On my visits and as I wrote the book I was frequently asked, “Who is this book for? Administrators? Leaders? Classroom teachers? Parents? Will you share concrete ideas for what I can do in the classroom?” The answer to all is a resounding “Yes!” We have to get past the mindset that leadership is the job of those at the top of the pay scale. Both leadership and innovation are vastly more effective and rapid in distributed, not hierarchical, organizations. Change is
not
outside the reach of everyone in the system. Leading change should be part of the “job description” of every student, teacher, administrator, and parent. We are
all
leaders of educational change, so this book is for
all
of us.
I visited public, private, and charter schools; my own work background was with independent schools, so I started my trip with more of them on my roadmap. Different schools face different political, demographic, monetary, and inertial challenges. This book is about what connects schools in their pursuit of innovation more than what separates them. Almost by definition, change is easier in private and charter schools than in many public school settings. By citing examples from private schools I am not showing disrespect or disregard for the challenges faced in public education. For more than a century, some schools have acted as laboratories for the larger field of education, and the lessons learned in these risk-taking lab schools are valuable for all of us. Public or private, we can all learn from each other, taking what is transferable and scalable for our own needs.
My connections with schools did not stop when I finished this trip; in fact they accelerated, like the rate of change in the world of education. I am aware of new brushfires of innovation burning at schools I did not visit, and I have seen innovative schools connect and leverage each other’s working pilot programs at an ever-increasing rate. Some examples I managed to work into this book before it went to press, and others I will find and report on via my blog,
The Learning Pond
, as quickly as I can. The schools I visited were the tip of the burning spear; there are hundreds of other schools where the same changes are smoldering, sparking, and in various stages of incipient combustion. If your school does not appear, I did not leave you out intentionally!
To get us kicked off in the right direction, here is my best stab at a rationale for the innovations that we need to encourage, embrace, and embolden in our system of education:
Students and teachers need the skills to be successful in a fluid, rapidly changing, and ambiguous future.
For students and teachers to be prepared for that future, they need to become self-evolving learners with a growing individual and collective comfort and capacity for change.
Our schools must rapidly realign our systems and resources in support of that overarching goal. Failure to do so will lead to institutional irrelevancy.
Innovation is the process of that realignment through creation and implementation of new ideas that bring value to your school community.
The obstacles are significant, but for every obstacle there is already at least the start of a solution. We just need to reach out, and add those solutions to the ever-evolving mosaic that is great education.
Hitting the Road
When I left my driveway before dawn on September 9, 2012, I did not have many solid expectations for the trip and certainly no pre-ordained ideas to validate. I was overwhelmed by the number of people who agreed to meet with me and who were eager to share their ideas, successes, and failures. A few I knew as colleagues from my fifteen years working in education; the vast majority were strangers, passionate about their life mission to prepare young people for their own futures. For many of them, I was just a guy in a Prius with questions to ask. This book is really their story, sifted through the filter of the guy who got to ask the questions, listen, record, and then get back in the car for a long drive to the next town or city. Many of those I met on the road said they were jealous of my time to explore, question, synthesize, and reflect. They have every right to be jealous; this trip was an extraordinary privilege. But what does it say about our education system when the best educators, knowing full well that learning thrives only with those nutrients—deep thinking, exploration, synthesis, and reflection—can’t find the time for them?
Highway motels are not bad places. They all look the same and run together with the trappings of the road, plastic key cards to room numbers I almost forgot, cereal and yogurt in the morning if the buffet is free, a granola bar in my room if it is not. Fast food is just calories you consume when you have somewhere better to be. Gas is gas. Nothing can replace an early Sunday morning drive down from the cool pines and green, late summer pastures of Richland, Utah to red, yawning sandstone canyon lands, Van Morrison on the sound system; or a stack of thick pancakes drowning in maple syrup on the first day of the Massachusetts winter; or a rolling patch of North Carolina Appalachia in all of its fall splendor, leaves blowing across the two-lane in a final bow before the trees are bare.
Ten thousand miles, eighty-nine days, one major car repair, and long drives in the slow lane are a small price to pay for the chance to spend hundreds of hours learning with people who know and care about what learning really means.
Part OneRoadblocks: How Can We Overcome the Biggest Obstacles to School Reform?
Before I left on my trip, Pat Bassett, then president of the National Association of Independent Schools, urged me to keep track of the obstacles to innovation that schools are facing—the things that don’t work as much as the things that do work. It was great advice, and as I interviewed teachers, students, administrators, and parents representing schools of all kinds and grade levels, I kept a log of these obstacles. As you might imagine, I started to hear similarities in the issues as the trip progressed. By the end of the tour I had captured nearly three hundred specific comments about why innovation and change are challenging and often uncomfortable at schools—why, despite years of discussion and agreement that we have to change education in order to prepare our students for a very different world, change is sluggish, stalled, or set aside. I waited until I got home, sat down with my log, and sorted the list into manageable buckets of similar comments.
I found four obstacles repeated most frequently that appear to present a truly existential challenge to a school’s ability to change what it does:
Use of time
Developing people and their ability to change
Leadership
Organizational structures
The next set of obstacles, cited or reflected at many schools but not with the same level of prominence or not as firmly blocking the critical path to innovation, are these:
Changing learning modalities
Inertia
Inward focus
Failure to clarify the school’s differentiated value
Reluctance to systematically work the problem
Before we get into specific stories and examples, I want to offer some context for the subject of change in knowledge-based organizations. I did not start my road trip completely devoid of preconceptions. For the previous two years I had studied, purchased a small library, and loaded my blog reader with ideas and insights from authors, business leaders, and change agents whose expertise draws from both inside and outside the world of education. It is a world of lessons gleaned from the past five hundred years of human history, tracing the success and failure of knowledge-based industries and organizations since at least the Renaissance.
I have already talked about what is perhaps the most commonly cited obstacle to innovation: change is hard. Assuming I got my point across in the introduction, let’s replace hard with uncomfortable. Although this is an important distinction, the reasons for this discomfort are real. If we don’t have to do something uncomfortable, we generally will not. Change is uncomfortable because it is about the future, and most predictions about the future turn out to be wrong. Organizations that have to commit large amounts of resources—make big bets—on what will happen a long way into the future take big risks that their visions of the future are just plain wrong. Think about NASA and plans for going to Mars. What happens to all of that human and financial capital if someone comes along and figures out a better rocket engine? What happens if electric car designers are wrong and hydrogen proves the more efficient renewable energy source? What if we build a magnetic-levitation bullet train and halfway into the project someone invents the 2.0 version that is cheaper, faster, and safer? These are enormous risks.
Schools are fortunate in this regard. The main job of schools is to prepare students for the future, and the amount of capital risk is relatively low. We just have to continually upgrade what we are supposed to be good at: managing the flow of knowledge. So why do we think that innovation and change are hard? Here are a few large-scale reasons gleaned from the long history of organizational change that pertain particularly to schools:
Successful organizations tend to be inwardly focused on what they
have done
, instead of what they
might do
, and that can lead to doubling down on past success. If schools are not imagining a different future, they will amplify their efforts to do what they have always done, only better.
Through either omission or commission, leaders may fail to clearly articulate that innovation is an organizational imperative that is critical to the future. If the organization does not see its collective interests aligned with the need to promote innovation, there will be no real change. Schools are very busy places, and when things are generally going well or according to plan, innovation takes a back seat.
Innovation is not just the creation and implementation of new ideas. Successful innovation demands that these new ideas create new value. The failure to link innovation strategies to value will result in the creation of lots of interesting new ideas that may or may not benefit the organization. Educators are creative people, but not all creativity results in value to the organization. Educators are also collegial and often averse to telling their colleagues that a good idea is not necessarily an idea that will make the school better at serving an evolving mission.
Organizations fail to innovate if they lack either internal or external networks. If an organization fails to seek
external
insights, it will become convinced that its way is the best or only way. If the organization fails to develop collaborative
internal and external
networks, it will lose the advantages of idea leverage and cultivation that have proven over time to be
the
critical factor in successful innovation. Schools have been much slower to recognize the key role that networks play in innovation than other successful knowledge-based organizations.
Innovation requires matching change vectors, which combine speed and a direction, to the rate of change in the external environment. Technology is the prime reason that organizations are now forced to innovate much more rapidly than even a decade ago. Knowledge-based organizations like schools have to keep pace with those changes, while also dealing with a nearly vertical curve in the rate of change of the sum of human knowledge.
Educators tend to be conservative when it comes to change. Educators tend to enjoy working in a highly democratic environment of decision making where consensus is a common goal. Teachers don’t like to ruffle each other’s feathers; they prefer to work together as a collective. This tendency has powerful positive effects when it comes to developing collaborative working groups, but it generates overwhelming frictional resistance to change if there is cultural reluctance to ask hard questions of one’s colleagues and oneself.
Schools have always been a special case with respect to failure. In schools, risks are taken in small, slow increments, and failure is not generally celebrated. There are few, if any, institutional benefits or rewards for those who want to take risks, and there is plenty of downside for both students and employees who try and fail.
These are just a few of the challenges to innovation that translate from other knowledge-based organizations to education. There are many more challenges, but we will now focus on those obstacles most common to schools and see how educators all over the country are overcoming them.
Chapter 1Time: The Most Common Obstacle to Change in Schools
At the end of a long day of school visits in Denver, I spoke with Alan Smiley, head at St. Anne’s Episcopal School. He talked about the need to balance rapid innovation with maintaining a center of focus for students and adults that does not change. I knew that he had touched on a very important theme, but I also knew I was tired from eight hours of interviews at two schools that day and would not grasp his real meaning without time to reflect. This idea was there, teasing me, just past the range of my understanding, as I wrapped up at St. Anne’s, drove out of Denver in a rainstorm, and settled in for the long drive to Kansas City.
As it turned out, I did not get to Kansas City that night. My car died just across the Colorado-Kansas border; I will save that tale for later in the book. So it was not until the weekend, having left Kansas on my way to St. Louis, that I finally had the chance to think about time and the pace and rate of change. With a full day to make the drive, I turned off of I-70 East, the major six-lane swath of asphalt that boldly pounds across the American heartland, onto Highway 50, a small two-lane byway which winds through the green, rolling hardwoods and rich bottomlands of the Missouri countryside. Speeds are slower, small crossroad towns flicker by, John Deere dealers and red-roofed, back-road burger stands more common than Arby’s and McDonald’s. Sometime in the midafternoon I slowed down, pulled over to a deserted picnic stop, and turned off the ignition. As I looked across the cloudy countryside, I finally got Alan’s point.
The same rapid changes in the world that drive innovation also drive an ever-more-hectic pace of learning. We pile on increasingly competitive college admissions; parents, students, and educators press the pedal to the floor even harder. Yet we all know that we think best, find connections, experience important and sometimes life-changing “aha” moments—not in the rush of the day or when information is swirling at us as we try to grab it, write notes, or complete an assignment—but instead when we take a walk or a long drive, or meditate, or just sit with a cup of tea in the afternoon or at the end of the day. Few schools have time set aside for drinking tea.
Our Most Precious Resource
Ask any randomly selected group of American adults, “What do you wish you had more of?” Some will say “money,” but almost all will say “time”—the time to do many of the things they would like: visiting with family, pursuing an interest outside of their normal work, helping a charity. The traditional industrial age model of education, as much as any manufacturing assembly line, is slave to the concept of time. Students’ lives are segmented into twelve or thirteen yearlong blocks of time according to their age and birthdate. Years are broken down into school time and nonschool time, semesters, trimesters, quarters, summer school, and vacations. Days are strictly bound by the time that schools must start and end within a remarkably narrow set of options. During those days, students and teachers march to the unnatural rhythm of bells and class changes, many still in blocks of 50 or 55 or 49 minutes that suggest that learning is best accomplished in exactly these quanta parsed out according to subject. Some schools have modified the daily routine to allocate two-hour blocks for one subject and not for another, or fewer, longer blocks for all subjects.
Schools that truly challenge their use of time find that it holds the key to liberating innovation. In my research with schools, by far the most frequently cited obstacle to meaningful change is time. The two areas for which teachers, administrators, and students consistently told me they wish they had more time, or more flexibility in time, were the organization of class time in the daily schedule and time for adults to meet, collaborate, and learn. Both public and private schools are finding solutions to the problem of time. Some create new time, not by extending the school day or year, but by shifting where people have to be during the day. Some reprioritize how time is spent and find that the school survives, and thrives, following what were formerly thought of as impossibly difficult changes to the school’s schedule. And we will hear of a ninth-grade student who came up with an elegant solution to one of the most intransigent problems in every school: finding time for teachers to meet and work together on their own learning pathways.
Why Is Time Chopped Up?
During my visit to a highly respected school in the Midwest, I sat in on a third-grade class. Recognizing the benefits of working across subject matter areas, this school had created a two-hour block of time to teach humanities. Sitting in the back of the class, perched on the tippy edge of a chair made for third graders, I noticed that the well-organized teacher had listed the day’s agenda on the whiteboard. She had parsed the day into about a dozen blocks of time. This is absolutely routine at most elementary schools. Student time is chopped up into so many minutes for math, so many minutes for art, so many for reading, and so on.
Not a single educator has ever told me that students learn best in twenty-minute or hour-long blocks of time segmented by subject, yet almost every school structures time that way. Why is school organized this way? I asked this question of many educators I met on my trip, and the answers varied little. The responses fell into two groups: (1) “I need that time in order to teach my students what they need to know,” and (2) “It’s done that way because that is the way we have always done it.” In an overgeneralized way, these two themes characterize the vast majority of responses about why daily schedules are the way they are.
As I discussed in the introduction, there is an enormous disconnect between what educators say are the key learning outcomes they want for their students and the allocation of our precious resources: time, people, money, space, and knowledge. Educators overwhelmingly agree that the essential qualities of their graduates are things like creativity, love of learning, good citizenship, empathy, effective communication, deep understanding of the challenges that face us in the world, and curiosity. Yet the organizing element of both student and teacher lives, day in and day out, week after week, year after year, is that the allocation of time has nothing to do with those essential outcomes.
Daily life at school is organized this way because that is how we always have done it, and changing the allocation of time can be extremely uncomfortable. Teachers have been hired, trained, labeled, organized, and evaluated by how well they control their time, their classroom, and their subject. A change to the daily schedule is a threat to who and what they are as teachers. Can we blame teachers for not welcoming a major change in their daily routine with open arms when this has been the source of their individual and community identity for as long as any of us can remember?
Most educators agree in principle that long periods of time that allow for deep inquiry, accumulation of experience, and iterative practice of critical skills will yield the best long-term results. Ask the same question to teachers and administrators about changing the specific schedule of their school, and it scares the heck out of them. Even asking the question often generates fear, skepticism, and push-back: “You are trying to steal my time.”
What if we were starting a school from scratch, with no preconditions other than creating the best possible learning environment for students? Would we break the day up into 55- or 75-minute chunks according to the same six or seven age-old subject areas? Would we all move in lockstep at the beginning and end of these increments of time and tell everyone to switch their brain patterns when a bell rings? Would it be set in stone that every student study math or a foreign language for the same number of minutes each day? Nearly every educator I met on the trip told me that learning at schools has evolved in response to time schedules as a precondition, and not the other way around.
Reimagining the School Calendar
The annual agrarian-driven school calendar has been a fixture of most schools for 150 years. We start school in the fall and take breaks for the major winter holidays, a week in spring, and then summer. Many public and private schools have found opportunities within these “vacation” gaps to offer enrichment programs, which often turn out to be the fun- and passion-filled activities that do not fit into the traditional scaffold of subject-driven curriculum. Some schools have asked why those “other” programs are relegated to summer school or spring break and have reimagined the entire school year schedule.
