Addicted to Urgent

       Fulfilling the urge to address what is put in front of you at the moment rather than meeting the important commitment of that time is an addiction. And that addiction is rampant in the part of India where I am currently living.  The ramifications at the school are profound and, I think, shake the core of the school's foundation -- stability in the teacher workforce.  The urgent matters at a school are rarely the things that directly impact the wellbeing of the teachers or the quality of life for the people working at the school.  There is a lack of attention to preventative and planful care, the result of which is a rise in the number of urgent matters (teachers quitting without warning, for instance) that further delays the opportunity to take care of the important things, like communication with teachers about upcoming events and work-related concerns.
     The way time is dealt with here in Sikkim has a large role to play in this issue (see my post "The Order of Things").  Time expands and contracts here at the individual's whim.  People believe there is enough time in the day to address both the important and the urgent, which means the urgent gets first priority and the important gets the dregs of time.
     I realize I bring my western sensibility to this environment, and I have been hesitant to impose my notions of how to do things for fear that I may offend. For example, my leadership style would most probably fall in the category of servant leadership -- what can I do to help my supervisees do their best work?  Here the Principal of a school is served by all others.  The level of deference is off the charts, comfort with giving feedback to the Principal is non-existant, and everyone simply lives at the whim of the person at the top.
     I don't know if I will be able to help this institution move off its addiction to urgent.  My first step is to set up some administrative positions so that the work of running the school can be shared with more people.  I don't know if that will help, though.  I'll keep you posted....

The American Way....?

     Sagun, an 11th grader at Taktse International School, explained to us that when she returns home to her family during holidays, people have started telling her she is rude when she speaks up or asks a question or joins an adult conversation, all things that she has learned to do and are highly valued at Taktse International School.
      The students here are being taught a way of growing up that involves initiative, assertiveness and the questioning of authority.  At Taktse School it is alright to correct your teacher if you think they have said something wrong, you are expected to voice your opinion and to ask to change rules if you feel they are unfair.  Action is the mode of learning, trying things and reflecting on the success or failure of what you tried is the methodology used to teach. The students are chastised for being quiet in class and there is no corporal punishment to keep the students in line.
     Contrast that with something one of the parents in the school shared with me.  He told me that he was taught to learn through quiet observation. No questions asked, watch your teacher, listen carefully, then you know how to do it yourself.  The culture here seems to be one of observation, of sitting quietly and serenely, content to have no activity of the body, but perhaps great activity in the mind. There are many people of few words here, I imagine it is hard for them to be involved in a place that is so verbal and interactive at the core.
     This all leads me to wonder about the choice to teach the students at Taktse a western, American way of learning.  Where will that get them?  Does it mean they outgrow their own culture? Are European and American schools their only option?  What right do we at Taktse have to say that this way of learning -- through questioning and action and shared reflection -- is the best way to learn? There is a teacher here very interested in post-colonialism and the longterm impact of an imperial  society that is supposed to live only in the past.  Does Sagun have to give up her family culture to adopt the Taktse way?  Is there a way to integrate the two? How does she avoid upsetting her family and still live as the person Taktse has encouraged her to be, the person she wants to be?
    Students who transferred to Taktse have terrible stories of beatings for ridiculous infractions; they convey their own fear and loathing that built over time from that type of punishment. At Taktse there are no beatings. I can easily live with that different approach to discipline, but I struggle to fully believe that teaching students outside their way, when many of them will stay nearby and live within this culture, is the best thing to do for them.  

Zone of Proximal Emotional Growth

I am spending the year with my children in Sikkim, India.  We have only been here for three weeks, and from the moment we stepped off the plane in Delhi, I have found myself often asking, "why am I putting my kids (and myself) through this?" Grace and Corrina are very clearly way outside their comfort zone, to the point of tears sometimes, and I find myself contemplating over and over, is this the kind of pain they should be rescued from or is this the kind of pain required for growth?  The difference is not always clear to me and I struggle as a parent to know the difference.

I have found the same to be true in my teaching and administrative roles as well.  When are the moments that the student needs to feel the pain of a hard grade, or a harsh word, and when is it too much? How do we support students to stretch their notion of their own comfort zones, which can allow them to take growth-creating and healthy risks?

One of my colleagues here, someone I knew while in America, wrote me an email related to this subject:

     "Once, I was talking to J., he was saying that the Head of School was not interested in an exchange with Taktse because of the assymetrical nature of the relationship. In other words, Taktse kids would get so much from the school but what would the American kids possibly gain from Taktse? 

     "It made me so sad to hear that. I think that attitude is part of why our country is in so much trouble. I mean the main thing we, as Americans, have to gain from stepping out of our comfort zone is understanding how people in the rest of the world think and live and feel, the stresses they are under, the jealousies, prides and inadequacies they feel, what it's like for immigrants in our own country, etc etc. When I was in Beverly,  I heard a show on student exchange programs where they said that fewer and fewer programs really demand that kids step into an alien world. Evidently, more and more foreign exchange programs plan for students to be with other American kids, speaking English, staying in American-style places and eating familiar food so they can… have more fun. That is the goal: provide  fun and make some money for the university! That is what I mean by our country being in trouble. Personally, I love having fun but to hold that as the goal of an exchange--to not even recognize what a luxury it is--seems, well, ridiculous."

It is not clear to me that fun pushes emotional growth.  If we focus on fun in these types of moments -- where does that leave our students?  When we don't take the time to calculate and then push their zones of emotional growth, aren't we potentially limiting them? The fact is, students don't need Outward Bound to experience such opportunities.  If we could see moments in every day, in every classroom, as possible moments for growth, it could be incorporated into our way of teaching and could allow for maximal growth.

No Cheating

Fear is an unpredictable motivator.

I have been given the task at Taktse to edit and update the student/parent handbook. As I was reading through it I noticed that there was not a single section in the book addressing the act of cheating.  There was a vague reference to the expectation that all students be honest with their work, but in all the other handbooks I have ever worked on the section on cheating thoroughly detailed all the ways a student might cheat, the school's significant disapproval regarding cheating and the carefully delineated ways a cheating incident would be handled in the disciplinary process.

What are American kids afraid of that lead them to cheat? What are Sikkimese kids afraid of that lead them not to cheat?

I asked the person in charge of the handbook about the lack of reference to cheating and she responded fairly nonchalantly that there were probably cases and yes it would be worth putting in the handbook. At another time, a female student told us that her sister had offered to do her homework for her but she wouldn't "feel right" handing in and taking credit for work that someone else had done. She would feel ashamed if she got caught and wouldn't be able to lie about it.

In America, kids want to "get ahead" so badly they will risk a lot to do so. Many times they care less about actually learning than they do about getting good grades. Carol Dweck has shown that kids work best when they are complimented for working hard instead of being smart.  The American kids I have worked with are told by their parents that if they just work hard they will get good grades.  Well, school isn't actually like that. So what options are they left with? Copying homework and plagiarizing are ways to 1) look like they worked hard and 2) get a good grade, especially when they have a lot of other work to do or they are afraid that working hard won't automatically lead to good grades.  What I want to know is what happened to feeling ashamed or afraid as an inhibitors to cheating for American students?

On Loving what you Do

My Last Public Speech at Gann -- Shiur Clali

June 1, 2012

     When I was in the 8^th grade, I was sure I was going to win the math prize.  I had good test scores, I knew the math teacher saw my talent – the prize was mine and it was all I wanted from 8^th grade graduation.  When Mr. Emmett stood up to give the prize I smiled slightly and held my breath. And, you can imagine my shock and disappointment when someone else’s name was announced. I hadn’t received the prize.  I spent lots of time after graduation hypothesizing why I didn’t get the prize, rationalizing it for myself so that I could feel a little better about the severe blow to my ego. Who knows if any of my reasons for not receiving it were correct, but the fact is, the one thing I cared about didn’t happen for me and I felt huge sense of disappointment.

      The funny thing is, on that day of graduation from 8^th grade, I did win two other prizes, prizes that I didn’t care the least about. I won the literature prize (I have no idea why I got that) and the Home Economics Prize. I was mortified by winning the Home Economics Prize - it was a prize for excellent sewing and cooking skills, which were good things to know for being a self-sufficient grown-up, and in my era, for being a good wife. The problem was that I wanted to be seen as a math person and nothing else. Still, I have to admit I was pretty good at Home Economics.  I sewed a dress that I wore to the 8^th grade luncheon and developed the menu that the whole class cooked for the end-of-year meal.

       When I was at that graduation, I felt like the world was telling me I should be something other than what I wanted to be – the world was telling me I should cook and sew and read good books.  But I wanted to do math.  I loved math – I still do.  In the end, I made the choice to ignore what I thought the world was telling me to be and do.  I continued my math education and minored in math in college.  I got pleasure every day out doing math, even if my elementary school didn’t think I was best at it.  And, I have to also admit, I do make a mean lemon meringue pie and often serve as a personal tailor for my friends and family. There was something to the prize I received in middle school.

      There are many moments in life when it feels like the world is defining for you who you are and who you should be, especially while you are growing up.  There are the right classes to take, the right friends to have, the right way to act and be. But in the end, if you can find a way to listen to yourself to know what you want and what you love to do, you are greatly increasing the odds of discovering what your life work and passion should to be.  Knowing what you are good at does matter.  But what you are good at can change and is highly influenced by what you love to do.

        This story is my lead-in to the advice and the blessing I want to give you that feels authentic for me and relevant for you.

       Listen to your own heart and your best instincts, stop worrying about what others want from you and expect from you and stop caring so much about what others think about you. Pursue your passions with abandon because it makes you feel good to do so.  Be true to yourself right now, in this moment, as a way to feel the best you can about where you are in life.

        In high school this is a very hard thing to do.  You may be so full of others’ expectations that you can‘t hear your own voice.  But when you get a glimpse, when you have that feeling of exhilaration for having done something well that you love doing, PAY ATTENTION!  That is your heart speaking to your mind about pursuits that will have great meaning to you. I loved doing math when I was young and it still brings me joy every day I am in the classroom.

       Finally, once you have discovered your passion, it is my wish that you will find a place in the world where you can make a difference with that passion.  I know that I have made a difference in the lives of Algebra 1 students with my passion for math. It may seem small in the grand scheme of things, but it has been magical for me and my students over the course of my career.

        In the end, Gann has been an amazing and exhilarating place for me to share my passions.  You all have embraced me and my way of being, I know that the light in me has shone through to a lot of you.  That is the ultimate prize, acknowledgement of my right place in the world, a prize you and Gann has given me. I can’t thank you enough for allowing me the chance to feel so good about being myself.  And I hope, in turn, I have been able to do the same for you.  I have been dedicated to finding ways for each of you to be seen for the person you really are and to explore without penalty or judgment what your true passions might be. I hope that you have felt some sense of being known here at Gann and that you, like me,  will find another place, at least once in your life,  where you are valued deeply for being you.

Accountability

"Accountability is something that is left when responsibility has been subtracted." 
 -- Pasi Sahlberg, director of the Finnish Ministry of Education's Center for International Mobility

Not exactly sure what this means, but it has me thinking about how many times in a day, as a manager at a school, I use the word "accountable."  I am thinking about trying to replace the word with "responsible" to see if it changes my sense of the situation. I'll keep you posted.