ASU + GSV: Game Changer

I am a former theatre teacher, so maybe I have a flare for the dramatic, but the professional learning experience that I had the week of April 16, 2018 at the ASU + GSV Summit in San Diego, CA had (and continues to have) a profound effect on me. My hope for every working person is to have a professional experience like the Summit that fundamentally changes not only how she views her profession, but actually repositions her world view. When I returned to River Bluff High School, the secondary school where I currently work as the Academic Dean, a high school founded on supporting learners in an innovative schedule with innovative instructional practices, I wanted to run through the Commons areas like a modern-day Paul Revere, shouting, “The FUTURE is coming! The FUTURE is coming!”

So what is purpose is at the heart of this Summit of innovators and forward-thinkers in business and education that inspired me and so many others? The Summit website states:

Education and Talent Technology is a $76B global market that is growing rapidly. Education Tech and HR Tech addresses the urgent need for scaled innovation to achieve vastly improved educational and career outcomes. It is through education and human capital technology advances, we believe, that the "Big Hairy Audacious Goal" (BHAG) of every person having access to the future can be achieved. The ASU + GSV Summit is a conference dedicated to elevating innovation at scale.

There’s that word again - FUTURE. Dr. Joseph Aoun, President of Northeastern University, lifted up two ideas in a keynote panel entitled, “Future of Talent: What it Means to Transcend Work and Transform Education,” that resonated with me about preparing students for the lives they will be leading. He began by discussing the way in which we need to prepare all children for the future. Dr. Aoun said that we used to think of our lives as temporal: first we learned, and then we worked. Now we must prepare children to integrate learning and work throughout their entire lifetimes in three different literacies: technology (robotics, artificial intelligence . . .), data (compilation, analytics . . .) and human (empathy, collaboration . . .).

Dr. Aoun then made an assertion that sang to my educator’s heart. He posited that none of the literacies have meaning without the direction and guidance of a teacher. He said, “While we may not remember what we read in third grade, we probably can remember our third grade teacher.” The mastery of literacies - whatever their category - will not be relevant without the caring adult who helps children make connections that having meaning to each individual student. “Personalized Learning” cannot happen without the PERSON who helps children construct meaning that grows in to lifelong learning and passions.

And then there is the second word, which I find more intimidating than FUTURE, and that is SCALE. How do we make this future of lifelong learning and personalization SCALE to all children in South Carolina? I left the Summit with a tremendous sense of urgency born out of this notion of SCALE because, to me, that means accessibility for all children. I can manage the idea of implementing personalized learning for growth toward mastery in a classroom, even in a school - but how do we do it in a state, in a nation?

We do it collectively. Educators commit to being lifelong learners themselves who work to provide the education that every child needs, every child deserves. We must be SCHOLARS, defined as both learners and experts, to employ technology, data and human literacies that support our children toward mastering their FUTURES.  John Legend, another ASU + GSV keynote speaker, said, “The future started yesterday, and we are already late.” Our job, on behalf of all children, is to work as hard as we can to catch up.

Taking a Drive

I had a doctor's appointment this afternoon, and her first question was, "So was today your first day back from Spring Break?" I smiled. A relaxed, happy smile. I know it's not nice to rub it in for people who don't get Spring Break, so I followed my smile up with, "All professions deserve a Spring Break." She agreed adamantly.




This year for Spring Break we went to Albuquerque for my niece's wedding, which was AMAZING. It was GORGEOUS. We had the best time with family and friends, celebrating Becca and Mike. During the week that followed, there was a lot of cooking, a modicum of shopping and more laughing. My husband, my kids and I had the best time with my dad, my sister and her kids.




My favorite part of the break, though, was the drive. [Quick side note: my husband has a terrible phobia of flying, and, fun fact, we discovered on this trip that I now have full blown panic attacks driving across bridges, through mountain passes or when surrounded by three semis and a concrete wall. It was not a good look.] That's right - we were in the car together for forty-eight hours as a family. Yes, we are all still talking to each other, but I won't lie; there was a plethora of sleeping. There was EPIC whining. Every time someone from the back seat asked, "How much longer?" we added seven minutes to the ETA - just enough not to be too conspicuous, until they figured out that it probably wasn't going to take ten hours to drive the sixty miles that remained. But we also read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (thank you, Bonine), we listened to podcasts, and we engaged in car-trip karaoke.




So are your ready for the take-away? It really is about the journey. (Sorry, I had to . . .) And it is about the break. We all deserve it, and what I have learned is that is necessary. I think about Spring Breaks past when I’ve graded papers or built schedules, and now I wonder if I thought doing that work was keeping me on track, maybe getting me ahead. What I know now is that it is so important to step back so that I can step up for the kids we serve every day when it’s time. I feel energized - okay, and more than a little tired from driving and riding, but I have gotten to spend time focused on the people I love, so now I’m ready to continue in a job I love without feeling depleted. The end of the year requires as much, if not more energy than the beginning. But I’m ready because I just had a wonderful Spring Break. And I deserved it - we all do.

Next Steps

I found out last week that I will be transferring schools next year.  Change feels like it has been imminent all year given my participation in the Aspiring Principals Academy, but when the change happened, it felt like it came very quickly.

Change has never been something that is hard for me because I grew up moving every eighteen months to two years - no, not army-brat . . . large corporation child.  This is different, though.  The change is exciting and full of new possibilities, but I am leaving a place that I helped to build from the ground up - almost literally ( I didn't do the bricks and mortar, but I helped pick all the furniture!) - so I feel sad, too.

What I learned, though, when I worked at the district level in another place is that the children in our schools really are all our children.  I saw the effect that strong practice in one classroom, one building has across a system.  As a teacher, I didn't really understand that and having gone back in to a school building, I am reminding myself of it since my view has, once again, become a little more myopic.  All that I've learned and all the ways that I've grown will come with me, and I will work diligently to make those experiences have a positive impact where I'm going.  I also will learn and grow more from the people with whom I'm going to work.  That is the exciting part.

Here is the e-mail I shared with the RB Faculty and Staff when my departure was announced at the end of last week:

Hello, River Bluff CREW.

As I write this, I am going to try to avoid the following:

• making this sound like an Oscars acceptance speech - although I should probably have won one of those at some point - "First, I would like to thank . . ."
• sounding like I'm walking out the door immediately because I have miles to go before I sleep (thank you, Mr. Frost).

I have worked in many places over 23 years, and I know that I've taken important parts and pieces of those places with me wherever I've gone next.  I can honestly say, though, that I have grown more as a person through this work with you than I ever could have imagined because of the amazing professionals that you are.  Thank you for challenging me, pushing my thinking, and, most importantly, supporting and growing children through pushing your own practice.  I greatly appreciate being a part of the RB family.

I am excited to embrace the new challenges and experiences ahead as a White Knoll Timberwolf - going back to a school where I loved teaching!  I know and respect so many of the faculty and staff, and I can't wait to get to know all of the White Knoll learning community.

Make no mistake, though, I am so grateful to be taking the best you all have given to me as a learner and leader on the next part of my journey.  

With love and eternal gratitude,

jp

-- 

Julie Painter

Academic Dean for Innovation

River Bluff High School

Our Purpose

There is a student - we will call him Dante. I am struggling to help Dante right now, and here's why - Dante exists in an educational system that is not structured to meet his needs, to support him as a learner. And when I say "a system," I don't really mean just our school or our district. I am talking about the American (high school) education system where students take courses that are strictly delineated by subjects in which they earn Carnegie units based on "successful" completion of those courses, and yes, let's go there, their academic achievement is based (largely) on grades and standardized test scores.

Dante is smart. His grades are typically pretty average, and his test scores, while strong, are not off-the-charts high. He does read ten to fifteen books a week.  As a matter of fact, I recently made a deal with him; if he turns in his missing assignments and completes his work this week, I will give him a college-level Physics textbook I have in my possession (so far, he's completed all of his make up work except for one paper, and he e-mailed me twice this weekend to see about getting his hands on the textbook).

Dante doesn't do homework, generally, though, for two reasons.  One is that he reports seeing no point in it. He said "I already know all of this stuff.  Why can't I just take a test and be done with it?" And by a test, Dante means for the whole course, not just a unit test, so he can "move on." The second reason Dante doesn't do his homework is that he has been diagnosed with an extreme depressive disorder, and he has become suicidal. Dante describes his current mental and emotional state as one of hopelessness. "There is no point," he repeats. "I am not motivated to do anything anymore." His life feels full of trivialities to him because he wants to go to a specialized college he's found to study Quantum and Theoretical Physics, and he can't see how to get there from where he is in his life right now.

There is so much to unpack here, and as I reflect on Dante's situation, I am left with more questions than answers. Does Dante really know all the things he thinks he knows? What is our evidence that he does? What is our evidence that he doesn't? How is his mental illness impacting his ability to learn versus his ability to complete tasks? How can we instill meaning and value in learning with him when what he is being provided now does not seem authentic or important to him? Do we really believe it is our responsibility as educators to grow all learners, even students who seem to "know it already" or who struggle deeply with mental illness? Does ALL really mean ALL?

There it is again - the question that (rightfully) dogs us at every turn. I spoke to a colleague about Dante, and my colleague's response was, "Well, he just needs a special school." And, you know, Dante does need a special school. Maybe Dante needs a place where teachers measure where Dante is in his learning, share that data with him and create a plan with him to develop his learning in those identified areas. Maybe Dante needs a school where teacher-experts work together across multiple disciplines to create authentic learning experiences that challenge him to make connections in his learning. Maybe Dante needs a school where he could participate in developing some of those experiences and the assessments that would show what he knows. Perhaps the educators in this school would would help Dante realize that learning isn't just about the demonstration of knowledge on a test (or assessment or project), but it's also about growing as a person in demonstrating a growth mindset and collaborating in a meaningful way with people who don't always think like him or who have experiences like him (because, I'm guessing, the specialized college he wants to attend will expect him to persevere when his work gets hard or to collaborate with others inside of the complex work.)

Here is what I know - we can be that school for Dante. We may not be there yet completely, but we are on the road; we are growing and moving ourselves in the direction of meeting all students where they are and taking them further. Teacher leaders are in a professional learning cohort that is pushing their own thinking in that direction and challenging them to consider how to support other teachers to grow and move in order to provide the learning experiences that will support ALL children. Dante needs us to be that school; we have to help him find hope and purpose in his now so we can help him get to where he wants to go in the future. What a privilege to be that school for Dante, what an opportunity - what a responsibility.

Inside Out

Sometimes you need to go outside so you can look in.  Honestly, I haven’t gone outside very much this year - in a professional sense, anyway - especially as compared to years past. (My husband would tell you that I had to be talking about my professional life since I do everything I can to stay indoors in all other aspects of my life.)  I’ve engaged in the deepest learning that I’ve ever experienced through the Aspiring Principals Academy, and I have been focusing on applying all of my learning through this experience to the teaching and learning in our school building.  Last weekend, I had the opportunity to step out to an event that I thought was going to focus solely on celebration, but this celebration was another part of my journey in learning and reflection.

On Saturday, I went to the Columbia Urban League’s Young and Gifted Awards Program where African-American seniors were honored for their accomplishments.  I attended this year because a previous honoree I was close to, Miles, made a point last year to tell me that I didn’t attend when he was recognized.  In a conversation in my office, MIles went on to say that no leaders from our school went to the awards ceremony, and he commented, “That told me we aren’t a priority.”  I’m not sure I even knew about the awards last year, but when it came across an email last week, I immediately put it in my calendar. I would have felt badly about Mile’s sentiment in the past, but with all of the work we’ve done this year in race and equity, I know how much that guilt and remorse are worth - nothing.  It’s time to show up; it always was.

One of the featured speakers at the awards ceremony, Carlos Brown, a Vice President and General Council for Dominion Energy, is one of only twenty-five African-Americans to hold the position of General Counsel in corporate America. He talked about growing up in Virginia in a small, crowded house with no indoor plumbing.  He told the kids that he made a success of his life because of his faith and the importance his family placed on education.  Mr. Brown also shared with the students and other members of the audience that he had gone to see the film Black Panther the weekend before; he said he sat in the theatre in awe of the mythical African land of Wakanda where the people were strong innovators and thinkers. He continued, saying that when he looked out in the audience, he believed that Wakanda wasn’t  a myth because of the students he saw before him. (“Wakanda, forever!”)

When I looked at the hundreds of students in that sanctuary waiting to be individually recognized - because, as the President of the Columbia Urban League stated, there is power in having your name spoken aloud -  I hoped that the students were surrounded by those who had impacted them, those who believe that these students are capable of making the world a better place. It was my honor to be present, and that event will be a priority in my calendar, just like our district’s Excellence in Education Banquet.  I want the students who are acknowledged at the Young and Gifted Awards Program to know that they are valued. I want them to feel that the recognition they received from outside of their school matters inside of it, too.

Equity - A Call to Action

“The answer is in the room.”  The members of our Aspiring Principals Academy cohort heard this expression frequently from the APA faculty when we were growing through (that’s right I said “growing through” instead of “going through”) our three-week summer intensive experience.  We learned quickly that we couldn’t look for the answer in a book, or seek it from a person of authority.  We, as Principal-Residents, had to find the answer through the work, in collaboration with our colleagues, and, most importantly, inside of ourselves.

When I attended the 1^st Annual Equity in Education Conference, organized by the Center for the Education and Equity of African American Students, I thought about this expression – “The answer is in the room” – especially after listening to the keynote address given by Dr. H. Richard Milner. Dr. Milner shared with us points about equity that affect all students of color, especially African-American students.  “Our talk matters,” and “When the music changes, so must the dance,” easily could be clichés; Dr. Milner supported the the points he was making, though, with quantitative data, challenging the attendees to consider what biases and prejudices could be holding educators back from supporting children of color in ways that they need to be supported to learn, to be successful. (I understand that the discipline data that Dr. Milner showed was troubling to some of the people from the districts whose numbers were shared. Frankly, it was my wish that Dr. Milner had created a table with the discipline data from all of the Midlands’ districts, including ours, so that we could all get those cards on the table.) I did not expect to leave that powerful keynote with THE answer, a clear course of action to write the wrongs of inequity. But Dr. Milner achieved his purpose; I was thinking.

Two third-year Social Studies teachers - one white, one black – who teach in a high-poverty, high-minority middle school in downtown Columbia, conducted the first session I attended, entitled, “Critically Conscious and Engaging Social Studies Instruction.”  I could tell that these two young teachers were very nervous, but the content of their session gave me the opportunity to consider what it looks like/sounds like to ask students to be “critically conscious” – not just to accept the stories that traditionally have been told or the histories that have been passed generationally as TRUTH.  The answer I found in that room wasn’t about strategy or terminology in teaching students of color to examine how society defines them.  The answer I found in that room was in how these two amazing teachers viewed their children – as thinkers, as doers, as change-agents, as scholars who could do the research, ask the hard questions, find their own truths and define themselves in their own terms. I left wishing that the children in their classes would only ever feel as valued as they are by those two teachers as they progress through their education, but knowing that, in all likelihood, that would not be the case.

After the conference was over, I found myself reflecting, no, seeking an answer – I couldn’t help myself - for how educators must not only address inequities, but change them so the education, the lives of students of color are valued.  What can I DO? I needed only to look as far as the theme of the conference, “Start Where You Are, but Don’t Stay There.”  The gauntlet was thrown.  The conference itself was the challenge.  The members of the cohort and the faculty of the APA probably left the Equity Conference and have generated through our own work more questions than answers centered on equity, but none of us are content with just having a conversation anymore. Now is time for action; we can’t stand still.  The power is in the room.