Learning Conversations

I noticed something this year. Two of my children will be moving to new schools in September – my oldest moves from middle school to secondary school, and my second one moves from elementary school to middle school.

Aside from the fact that I’ll be delivering three kids to three different schools next year (aaaigh!), this has also given me reason to consider how my children are gaining independence and maturity.

Oh the fear! I noticed it first with my middle one. Since he has written output difficulties, I started thinking about what kind of support he’d get at middle school? I wondered how the expectations would change re: volume and quality of work or how much homework he would have at the higher level? I expressed my concerns to his teacher about how much of the time he was using a scribe or provided opportunity to answer verbally vs. having to produce written work or how comfortable he was getting with using his laptop or other assistive technology?

What if the class time he’d missed to receive reading or learning assistance had resulted in him missing portions of the curriculum that other students were learning? Would that affect his positive attitude about himself and his learning, if he was obviously lacking knowledge in comparison to his peers? His teachers and I had all worked SO hard to help him understand himself and to remember that a learning disability was just a difference, not a failure – and it was paying off. I didn’t want that undermined by the transition…

Then my daughter, in Grade 8, started getting quite anxious about high school. There were many questions being asked and applications required – special programs, cross boundary transfers, comparison of electives or schools, etc… And there was this feeling of “you better figure out how to be organized and independent NOW because there will be no one next year to hold your hand anymore…”

At about this time, I started reading “Hold On To Your Kids” by Gordon Neufeld and Gabor Mate. Actually, I flipped the book open to this:

Our new-world preoccupation with independence gets in the way (of inviting our children to rest in the security of our love and support). We have no problem inviting the dependence of infants, but past that phase, independence becomes our primary agenda. Whether it is for our children to dress themselves, feed themselves, settle themselves, entertain themselves, think for themselves, solve their own problems, the story is the same: we champion independence – or what we believe is independence. We fear that to invite dependence is to invite regression instead of development, that if we give dependence an inch, it will take a mile. What we are really encouraging with this attitude is not true independence, only independence from us. Dependence is transferred to the peer group.

In thousands of little ways, we pull and push our children to grow up, hurrying them along instead of inviting them to rest. We are pushing them away from us rather than bringing them to us. We could never court each other as adults by resisting dependence. Can you imagine the effect on wooing if we conveyed the message “Don’t expect me to help you with anything I think you could or should be able to do yourself”? It is doubtful that the relationship would ever be cemented. In courtship, we are full of “Here, let me give you a hand,” “I’ll help you with that,” “It would be my pleasure,” “Your problems are my problems.” If we can do this with adults, should we not be able to invite the dependence of children who are truly in need of someone to lean on?

Perhaps we feel free to invite dependence of adults because we’re not responsible for their growth and maturity. We don’t bear the burden of getting them to be independent. Here is the core of the problem: we are assuming too much responsibility for the maturation of our children. We have forgotten that we are not alone – we have nature as our ally. Independence is a fruit of maturation; our job in raising children is to look after their dependence needs. When we do our job of meeting genuine dependence needs, nature is free to do its job of promoting maturity. in the same way, we don’t have to make our children grow taller; we just need to give them food. By forgetting that growth, development, and maturation are natural processes, we lose perspective. We become afraid our children will get stuck and never grow up. Perhaps we think that if we don’t push a little, they will never leave the nest. Human beings are not like birds in this respect. The more children are pushed, the tighter they cling – or, failing that, they nest with someone else.

Life comes in seasons. We cannot get to spring by resisting winter; in winter plants are dormant – they will burst into bloom when spring comes. We cannot get to independence by resisting dependence. Only when the dependence needs are met does the quest for true independence begin. By resisting dependence, we thwart the movement to independence and postpone its realization. we seem to have lost touch with the most basic principles of growth. If we tried to pull our plants to make them mature, we would endanger their attachment roots and their fruitfulness.

(…)

Teachers should be inviting dependence as well. In fact, it is usually those teachers who encourage their students to depend upon them who are more likely to be effective in fostering independence in the end. A master teacher, rather than pushing pupils toward independence, supplies them instead with generous offerings of assistance. A master teachers wants her students to think for themselves but knows the students cannot get there if she resists their dependence or chastises them for lacking maturity. Her students are free to lean on her without any sense of shame for their neediness.

Some things in here really resonated with me:

1) By pushing children to be independent, we’re actually damaging our relationships with them and reducing their ability to mature fully. It doesn’t have to be this way!

I see this so clearly with my own children!

My littlest one loves have me do things for him –for example, he’s six (and perfectly capable of dressing himself) and often asks me to help him get dressed or particularly to put his shoes on. I used to refuse – telling him “you’re old enough to do it yourself!” or “I’ve seen you do it before – I know you can!” And the more I refused, the more adamant and tearful he would become! Sometimes it became all out fights!

One day, when he insisted yet again that I put his shoes on for him, I knelt down beside him. I thought about what Neufeld said about “inviting dependence” and I said quietly “I know you can put your own shoes on. Is there something else you need from me? Perhaps some cuddles and hugs?” He looked at me, smiled that little mischievous grin he gets when he’s been “caught” at something, and nodded. “Yes please Mommy!”

I did that a few times – each time, when he asked me for something I knew he could do for himself, I reminded him that I didn’t mind if he just asked me for some lovin’ when he needed some. Sometimes we laughed. Sometimes he launched himself into my arms. Sometimes he begrudgingly put on his shoes for himself. But I’ve noticed lately that he doesn’t ask me anymore to get his clothes. Or put his shoes on. Or to help him get dressed.

He does ask me regularly for hugs, cuddles, and lovin’… And each time, I give him gigantic, bigger than required hugs. And I thank him for his love, since I know it’s such a gift to me!

In different ways, my other two (older) children “ask” for my love too – sometimes by way of great drama, sometimes by refusing to comply, sometimes by being grouchy, etc… I’m learning to offer my attention, support and love – not demanding anything in return. More and more often, I’m asking them questions to invite them to consider THEIR needs. And whether they’re meeting their needs with healthy strategies that respect themselves AND those around them? I focus on really listening to them, hearing them, loving them, reflecting to them, seeing them. I calmly EXPECT respectful and caring behavior. And I’m truly amazed at how quickly they respond!

Powerful…

 

2) We forget to trust in time and nature to help children mature. Our jobs (as parents and teachers) is to “tend” the soil and make sure they are secure and feel loved/supported.

I realized that all of this worrying about next year – and the new high school and middle school – was unnecessary. Although I’m still consciously considering my children’s needs as they transition (and what they’ll need to be successful), I’ve figured out that the best thing I can do to help them be ready is to a) pay attention to their needs RIGHT NOW and b) trust that the process will unfold as it should.

As long as I’m listening and responding to their needs (and I mean their deep human needs here, not their “wants” for a new toy or to watch a TV show), each day brings clarity of “what now?” My middle one has a new teacher starting after Spring Break – which will bring a new opportunity to review his learning needs in the classroom and a fresh set of eyes to assess his progress and readiness. I’ll ask those questions and speak with his new teacher. AND I’ll keep supporting and encouraging my gentle, quiet child to speak up about his needs, to advocate for himself in the classroom and at home (with me or his siblings). We’ll keep practicing these skills, and he’ll be ready – I trust in that now!

Same thing with my teen – neither one of us knows what high school will be like for her. And that’s okay! Like I keep telling her, I’ve know her since she was a baby and she’s always been determined and capable. She has handled great change. She’s shown herself capable of self reflection and growth. There’s nothing that makes me think she won’t handle this new challenge in the same way! One step at a time, one day at a time…

What I have had to ponder is what “inviting dependence” means for tweens and teens? This is a stage of life where my children are supposed to push away from me. They really are supposed to be able to dress themselves, feed themselves, solve many of their own problems, help around the house, do their homework, etc… Even if they’re asking me, I don’t help them do lots of things – it’s not developmentally appropriate.

The very thing I want to avoid is what we see too often in the media – the “helicopter” parent, being there to “fix” all sorts of things for my children when really, they need to struggle with these things themselves. It’s through the struggle that we learn persistence and build a sense of self-efficacy.

So this is where I’m learning to let go of the “doing” or the outcomes, but hold on to the person. When my daughter laments how hard her homework is or that she can’t get it done, I sympathize. “yes, I know you don’t want to do it, but do it anyways. I believe you can do it – keep trying…” And leave it at that. It’s really hard sometimes not to jump in and “fix” it – but I know it’s important to let her do it for herself.

I’ve come to the conclusion that sometimes, the best parenting I can do is to outlast them. Really. I remember Barbara Coloroso talking about this same thing: “yes, I know you don’t want to take out the garbage. It still needs to be done before you go to bed.” “yes, I know you don’t want to take out the garbage. It still needs to be done before you go to bed.” “yes, I know you don’t want to take out the garbage…” And so on.

But now I’ve added on the emotional support part. “It’s okay not to like it – I never do either.” “It’s okay to worry about school – that’s really normal. I believe you’ll do fine because I’ve seen you handle difficult transitions before. Remember when you…” “Pay attention to what you’re doing right now – I notice you’re avoiding your homework…” “I know you want my help, but I believe you can do it. I often notice how creative you are. Keep trying…” I share a lot of stories about my own feelings and struggles. Sometimes from my own childhood. Sometimes more recent events. With the purpose of letting her know she might not be alone in feeling the ways she does. Heaven knows, she gets that intensity of hers from somewhere… *blush*

It HAS to be real. Honest. Truly meaningful. Every time I say something, I think of examples I can remember and share with her, if she wants.

I ask her – not tell her. “Do you want my advice?” AND respect when she says “no!”

I let her know that I’m still here, if she wants to come see me later. Even if she’s pushed me away for now and doesn’t want me to talk any more. Even if she just wants a hug or a reassuring reminder.

And I notice that she’s quicker to catch herself – sometimes afterwards or sometimes even in the moment – and she’ll say “sorry Mom, I shouldn’t have talked to you like that…” I notice she’s quicker to stop complaining. She’s less likely to react or get angry – and more likely to give the benefit of the doubt or use her words. She’s better able to have a dialogue with me, even about difficult or emotional topics. It’s like she’s maturing, right before my eyes!

It may be very different when my boys are teenagers, I don’t know yet. But I’ll figure that out as we go – that’s the nice thing about kids. It’s not just them that’s growing and maturing, I get to grow right alongside them. Kinda like I’m growing up again. Or finally!

Most important, though, is to love them – to know, deep in my gut, that they are truly miraculous gifts in my life. I know that they’re amazing human beings and will grow up just fine, thank you very much! I let myself truly feel that, to roll it around on my tongue like a lovely piece of chocolate – savoring every moment of the experience.

They feel that – my trust, my joy, my gratitude, my faith in them, my love. THIS is my job as a parent. THIS is how I tend their soil, water their roots and give them the support their tender young shoots need. And then I can just sit back and let them grow their own independence. Like the beautiful flowers that bloom in my garden, when they’re ready to do so…

Paradox – an apparent contradiction that somehow makes sense.

Is it possible to be both an introvert AND social?

I started describing myself as an introvert about a year ago. And people laughed at me – right to my face. Some even snorted.

“No, really!” I’d say.

“Yeah right…” they’d reply, dismissing my objections, walking away and still shaking their heads.

Okay, I admit it: I’m quite social. I enjoy being around people. I love being in groups and having lively discussions. I even seek out the company of other people and often strike up a conversation with strangers at the coffee shop or on the bus.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not also an introvert!

Here’s the thing – introvert DOES NOT (necessarily) mean shy. Or socially inept.

Someone asked me last night “What is an introvert then?”

In “The Introvert Advantage”, the author offers a “quickie quiz” to examine whether you’re an introvert. You’re probably an introvert if you:

- Prefer to relax alone or with a few close friends.
- Consider only deep relationships as friends.
- Need rest after outside activities, even those you enjoy.
- Often listen but talk a lot about topics of importance to you.
- Appear calm, self contained, and like to observe.
- Tend to think before you speak or act.
- Experience mind going blank in groups or under pressure.
- Don’t like feeling rushed.

A key difference between an introvert and an extrovert also has to do with where your energy comes from: an introvert recharges and gets energy from quiet time, internal reflection, pondering the things they learn and putting them into context of their “big picture”, deep personal connections, solitude; an extrovert gains energy from being with groups of people, shared activities, excitement, being busy.

That doesn’t mean that an introvert doesn’t enjoy being around people. And it doesn’t mean that an extrovert can’t sit quietly and self reflect. It just means that it takes energy to do that – these activities don’t recharge you.

As I think about introversion, I can start to identify some of the things I do that fit:

I don’t seek out opportunities to go to parties or to hang around with large groups of people I don’t really know. When I do find myself in those situations, I usually wander about quietly, observing, until I find someone who’s interested in talking about education, parenting, child development, leadership, personal development or generally anything like the meaning of life… In other words, I seek out or create circumstances that meet my “introvert” needs – like a one-on-one conversation about things that matter to me – even within a typically “extrovert” environment.

I can think of many times where I felt like I had nothing to add to a conversation, even when I felt (or others felt) that I SHOULD be able to. Only to walk away and think of a dozen important points later on, usually at 2am or in the shower the next day…

I’ve learned that I need to understand before I speak. So if you ask me about something that I haven’t thought about before, I probably won’t have much to say. But I’ll also take that away and ponder it for days or even weeks. It will stew away in the back of my mind, I’ll ask people about it, I’ll research it. And if you come back to me to ask again, a while later – I’ll have a lot more to say.

A friend has always called me a “crock pot” thinker – because of that tendency I have to take lots of information in and just stew on it. I like that metaphor – it fits for me!

When I was younger, I found that a lot harder to accept though. I often beat up on myself for having nothing to contribute or for only thinking of something much later. I used to think that maybe I wasn’t smart after all, if I always stumbled in the very moment when I was called upon to add to a conversation.

I don’t have that problem any more. Probably for multiple reasons. For one thing, I have many more topics I’ve thought about and built a level of expertise that allows me to respond more immediately. I’ve also learned to appreciate my own thinking process – to say “let me think about that” or “I’ll get back to you.” Thankfully, I don’t feel “not smart” or like I can’t contribute anything of value to a conversation anymore – I KNOW I can, I just process information differently than some people around me.

I also know that I can talk for HOURS about the things that I’m passionate about! On specific topics (like education and child development), I can speak broadly, deeply, off the cuff, intelligently. In these cases, I’m animated, high energy, and excited. I speak quickly and move rapidly through all sorts of related tangents and experiences.

Another friend once looked at me (after a Halloween party, where I found a teacher and hunkered down to debate education for half the night) and said “Don’t you EVER relax?” I was confused at first – what did she mean? Then I laughed: having a passionate, one on one conversation IS how I relax! I walked away smiling and energized! But if I’d had to walk around all night, sipping my beer and chit chatting with everyone, trying to think of “light” topics to talk about – I would have been drained and wanted to crawl into bed.

As much as I dislike being the center of attention (for example, being the District Parent Advisory Council president for my District), I do it because the vision I have for parents being partners in creating great schools and making a difference for students is THAT important to me. I feel like I can help, I can make a difference. I facilitate our monthly meetings with joy and love the interactions with the variety of parents that attend. And I felt like I would be sick before every single meeting for the first two years!

So yes, I’m most definitely an introvert. Probably not an extreme introvert, because I move quite easily through this predominantly extrovert world.

But the thing I want to learn most is how to rest and recharge. That’s been my greatest struggle lately – to understand why I feel so drained and exhausted. And how not to…

Paul Allison hosted some discussions about the book “Walk Out Walk On” on Teachers Teaching Teachers:

http://teachersteachingteachers.org/?p=334

http://teachersteachingteachers.org/?p=335

http://teachersteachingteachers.org/?p=336

 

Before the book “Walk Out Walk On” even started, a quote from Peter Senge in the introduction caught my eye and resonated with my beliefs:

“If there is any hope for us it lies in rediscovering and recreating community – bringing forth our DNA as social animals into today’s world. Do not doubt t hat this is possible. Do not doubt that the resilience of life-creating conditions is present among us. Indeed, this is exactly what is happening in increasingly diverse social settings. Read Walk out Walk On and see for yourself – and see your self.”

I think that many of us sense this – the power of community and our social nature. It certainly shows up within the education community on Twitter and other social media. We connect. We form REAL relationships – in spite of the misconception that technology isolates.

There is no difference between “real life” and my “virtual life” – I meander freely back and forth, across mediums, talking with the same people in multiple ways. But always myself – authentic and real, sharing my thoughts and feelings, connecting with people around the world and next door.

From within that context, Senge’s comment has even greater power. We are, indeed, social. And now we have tools that allow us to extend our reach and be social in a much greater (and world changing) kind of scale.

I started reading this book with a group on Twitter – it started with a simple question “does anyone want to read Walk Out Walk On with me?” This group is a perfect example! I would most likely never have met these people, let alone been sharing a reading of this wonderful book with them without Twitter2. And here I am, sharing my thoughts with anyone who cares to read them.

Being able to share our thoughts, ideas, experiences, successes and struggles in this global way allows connections (and innovation) we might never have seen without the technology. Pretty awesome, if you ask me…

As the president of my district’s parent group (DPAC), my biggest goal is to support better parent-teacher relationships.

At our orientation meeting at the beginning of the 2008/09 school year, one of our amazing District staff development experts came to present about the importance of initiating conversations with your children’s teachers.

And as part of that presentation, she guided us through an “appreciative inquiry” exercise to help us connect with the best parent-teacher interactions we’ve had.

The exercise went like this:
- on an index card, write down you name, your children’s ages and the school(s) that they attend.
- write about a time that you had a great interaction with a teacher
- take your index card, introduce yourself to someone you don’t know, and describe your story to that person (and vice versa)
- trade cards with that person
- find another person you don’t know and tell them the story of the person whose card you’re now holding (and vice versa)
- trade cards with the second person
- find a third person you don’t know and tell them the story of the person whose card you’re now holding (and vice versa)
- choose three words that describe the stories that you heard

And here are the results (note – only words used more than once were included):

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What would happen if every parent-teacher conversation, conference or disagreement was conducted with caring, support, encouragement and respect?  What would our chances of finding successful solutions for our children be if we could remember to co-operate, be open, understand and appreciate each other?

At one of our DPAC meetings, we talked about this graphic and the kinds of interactions that produced results.  We talked about the things that get in the way of these kinds of interactions – why don’t we do this all the time??  And we talked about ways of increasing the likelihood of each interaction including all of these qualities.

What if we all, in our learning communities, talked about the kinds of interactions parents want to have with teachers – and how we can help each other create those situations? I think I’ll raise this discussion again at the beginning of the new school year approaching, to get everyone thinking about the positive interactions possible for us.

We’re all human – and it’s hard to remember to focus on the big picture all the time.  In my opinion, if we’re all talking about the same questions and have the same goals, then we’ve just tripled the probability that one of us (parent, teacher or administrator) will REMEMBER to pull us all back to our real goal – to have caring, positive interactions that help find solutions for our children!

And isn’t that what really matters?

Keeping student learning at the center of all we do in the education system is absolutely critical – I have no doubt of this! In fact, as parents, we have exceptionally high standards and expect schools to have a 100% success rate. Our District talks proudly of its graduation rate – up in the high nineties (percentile), it’s pretty impressive. And I still say “not good enough!” Ask any parent if they want their child to be the kid that falls through the cracks? I doubt you’ll get any takers!

So that means one thing to me – we all need to be part of the education “system.” We all need to work together: students, parents, teachers, staff, leaders, politicians, communities.

These are things we all know. And we talk about them a lot – what to change, what we want, what we dream of, what we value, etc…

The hard part is figuring out how to DO all these things? How to embed these beliefs into every thought, word and deed? How do we shift a system? How do we change the world? These are, indeed, big questions…

David Truss, Dave Sands and I have had many “big” talks about educational change over the last few years. We keep coming back to three core components to change – and that all three need to work together for success. We’ve talked about them as leadership, systems (technology, policies and procedures, administrative requirements, etc…), and shared learning (or Pro-D). Projects undertaken in only one of the three areas without considering/incorporating the other two areas inevitably fail or, at a minimum, underperform and lack sustainability.

I’ve come to think of the three areas that David, Dave and I talk about as a trifecta, of sorts. All three are needed to support innovative, systemic change. All three need to be considered and embedded into all we do in order to “win this race” for 100% success. As I reflected on Elisa Carlson’s post about Engaging Digital Natives, I got thinking again about change – the “engrossed” learning that she describes, I want for my children. For ALL children – and all adults too!

So, what will move us forward? How will we spread change and all the great things happening in pockets further and further, until we have a system we no longer recognize?

Here are my thoughts:

1) Relationships for Learning

(what David, Dave and I originally called “shared learning”)

I bet on relationships first. If there were only one thing I could focus my time on, it would be on building trust and relationships between all involved in our education system. Because if we have solid relationships, then we communicate with each other, we share our challenges and our ideas, and we learn together. And that, alone, changes my child’s learning experience in a classroom, even if all other challenges stay the same.

We have to remember that not only student-teacher relationships are critical to learning, but an entire community of healthy relationships are needed. Andy Hargreaves talks about the need for “active trust” to support systemic excellence and change, because we need learners to take risks. So we need supportive relationships between parents and teachers, teachers and students, all peer groups (students with students, teachers with teachers, etc…), principals and teachers, etc…

There are so many approaches, ideas, methodologies and projects – so many great things I see happening all over the place! But there is only one FIRST step in education change: we have to start by knowing each other. We have to encourage each other to remember that we’re all human and we all care about the same, fundamental things – children growing up to be happy, healthy, self aware and contributing citizens. We have to keep trying to remember not to assume or judge each other (and ourselves). We have to move beyond the old system and find ways to work together instead of fight against each other.

I never underestimate the power of the “system” (see #3 below). Barry Oshry writes about organizational behavior and how systems have personalities that inevitably influence us. We’re so used to doing things the way we always have and operating by habit. And particularly when under the influence of busy lives, it’s only natural to fall into old  habits – in this case, the old habits of treating parents as “clients” or the outsiders, doing “to” instead of doing “with” and falling back to assumptions about each other because it’s easier than the uncomfortable and vulnerable work of revealing yourself as an individual (with all the human foibles we all wish we could hide).

It’s easy to get frustrated with people – it’s much more effective to get curious. Ask questions. Don’t assume. Listen with an open mind. Don’t judge. Let yourself and those around you be whole, imperfect and amazing human beings. Open doors and take first steps in getting to know each other. Start by sharing something about yourself – you have a dog, you like snowboarding, you want to travel to Paris some day. Something that let’s people see you as an individual. Connect. It’s the foundation!

Parents need professionals. Professionals need parents.
The children need us both.

-Federation of Invisible Disabilities

2) “Creating a Space” for Learning

(Originally “Leadership)

I bet on the leadership needed for building communities in second place because we need those relationships to move beyond one-on-one interactions. We need support and modeling to learn how to trust that we can take risks (and won’t be made fun of or reprimanded), to come together as groups that collaborate and share, to decide that it’s safe in this space to be vulnerable and uncomfortable.

We all need leaders/mentors who encourage us without judging, who ask questions instead of give answers, who inspire us and who motivate us to believe in ourselves. Sometimes, we need the wisdom of an “expert learner” to help us keep going when we’ve lost hope and to walk beside us without taking over.

This could be a principal working with her staff, a teacher working with students, a student leader working with peers, a parent who advocates for greater involvement, etc… We are all leaders in different ways and at different times.

Ultimately, creating a “safe space” for learning has to do (first and foremost) with who we are, not simply what we say or do. It takes silence, self reflective practices and conscious effort to be able to “show up” for those around you in a whole, healthy and supportive way. Without baggage. This is where Gandhi’s “be the change you want to see in the world” becomes the core guiding principle!

We cannot force someone to learn. We cannot mandate or legislate change. Ultimately, we can’t even motivate people to make the changes we want them to make. Goodness knows, I’ve tried! My daughter is a beautiful, smart, sensitive young lady. She is also disorganized, quick to anger or frustration, anxious and vulnerable. She’s quick to beat up on herself (afraid I’ve modeled that for her all too well…) and hates to hear feedback (because it all feels like criticism to her). Knowing that, in a way, I’ve “done” this to her through modeling my own insecurities and reactions, I sometimes feel like I have to also “fix” this.

It may be obvious to anyone from the outside that I can’t “fix” her, but fear and overwhelming love for our children isn’t always conducive to logical parenting choices… No surprise, then, that my dear daughter always fought harder when I tried to “teach” her – because every time I started some mini-lecture on the need for self control or having to clean her room, all she heard was “mom thinks there’s something wrong with me and I’m going to be a failure…” That led to nothing but more fights and more self doubt – the exact OPPOSITE of what I wanted for her!

Instead, I had to deal with my own fears FIRST. Only then could I start to learn to “hold a space” for her – to start every conversation by thinking “I love this child so much, how can I say what I want to say with that love at the core, so that she’ll hear me?” I don’t tell her what she’s done “wrong” anymore – she knows it (and desperately fears it) already. I ask questions instead. “How did it feel to be so upset? Did you like that? What do you want to do differently?” I ask her “How can I help?” or “Does that seem reasonable?” or “Can you think of a similar time when you found a solution?” I say “I love you” and offer her a hug (more and more, she asks for hugs now).

I set expectations and hold her to them by reminding her that she is capable – because sometimes she’s afraid and has lost hope, so helping her remember that she has successfully handled such situations in the past helps her remember to trust or believe in herself. And only once she lets go of the fear does her mind open to all the solutions that were sitting in front of her all the time! I could have told her what to do until I was blue in the face and she wouldn’t have done anything – because a mind closed with fear is blind. But simply to say “I believe in you and here’s the proof I see” shifts her a little, makes her question her fears, and invites her to open up just a crack.

What does this mean in our schools? Well, how often do we berate teachers who “don’t get it” for not changing their teaching practices? Or when that perpetually tardy student shows up late again, how often do we pull him into the office for another “mini lecture” on the need for punctuality? When parents sit around complaining in the parking lot, does anyone go listen to their concerns and invite them into the school for discussion? Or do the staff stand at the windows thinking “there they go again. THOSE parents…” (insert rolled eyes here). Every day, every moment – are our actions supporting the change that we can’t to make? Are we creating that space and that safety needed for those around us to learn?

In other words, I’ve learned something critical about leadership and systemic change from my darling, high strung daughter. We can only create a space that is safe, caring and supportive – then invite people to join us in making the changes that matter to us all. And join us, they will. I have faith! NOTE: return to review importance of #1 now, in context of #2…

3) Systems for Learning

(originally and still “systems”)

Ahhh… The SYSTEM… We do, indeed, have a hard time shifting a system, don’t we? There are rules, policies, Provincial learning outcomes, legislation, administrative procedures, best practices, standardized tests, class sizes, reporting requirements, budgets and limited resources, Roberts Rules of Order, and (not least of these) “the way we’ve always done it.” There are computer systems, software programs, support structures, hiring practices, purchasing rules, and parents who “don’t get it.” There are innumerable reasons why we can’t change.

Right now, we have excellence that happens in spite of the system. Every day, I see educators, principals, parents, students – all doing amazing things! But too often, these great programs or projects are driven by the determination and persistence of individuals – fighting the system and moving mountains because they care about kids and want to make a difference.

Too often, we have to find ways around policies, we have to fight technology barriers, we are working alone (“reinventing the wheel”) or we have to ignore politics (with career risk involved) in order to make great things happen. And the problem with this kind of change is that it isn’t sustainable – eventually, you get tired of fighting, you doubt your effectiveness and life becomes overwhelming. So the great program ends and you move on to a new challenge, hoping that this time it will be different…

In order to move forward and truly achieve lasting change and 100% success, we need excellence that is supported by the system.

This is where we usually start. Perhaps because it’s the most obvious – the lack of computers, the wireless networks, the budgets we debate every year, the curriculum or standardized testing mandated by government, changing assessment and report cards, the pro-d days, the possible programs (i.e. project based learning, IB, Montessori, French Immersion).

But the projects we choose often lack the conscious inclusion and consideration of both leadership and relationships/trust. I’ve noticed that we carefully select our pilot sites for technology projects, considering who the Principal at the school is, what kind of pro-d culture they have, how the parent/community relationships are. And I don’t think we often list those considerations specifically – it’s more of a gut feeling or instinct based selection. We sit around a table and throw out suggestions for pilot schools – and certain ones immediately resonate. We know we can make change there. Why? Because the “right” people are there…

When we roll it out further, it often struggles. We still deploy the computers, but they get used by only certain people. Or they are used in much more adaptive (rather than transformative) ways.

Yes, we need to change the system – there’s no doubt of that! But we need to change it together. We need to pay attention to relationships and communities. We need a shared understanding of our ultimate goals – what Andy Hargreaves calls an inclusive and inspiring vision. And we need to constantly questions our assumptions along the way. Changing a system has as much to do with what we do as with what we choose NOT to do…

Life’s two most important questions are “Why?” and “Why not?”
The trick is knowing which one to ask.

- Gordon Livingston