Making Our Mission Real: How We Can Help Our Children Navigate Reality

“We empower each [community member] to be a compassionate, responsible, and active global citizen.”

--The High Meadows Mission Statement

It’s easy to read such words as platitude. They certainly sound noble. But how does an elementary school make these words really reach students? Aren’t the elementary years about teaching reading, writing, and ‘rithmetic? Or do we have a greater calling to use tragic events such as the recent terror in Charlottesville as touchstones to teach our children how to overcome hatred and injustice?

Photo Credit: The Boston Globe

When I was a kid, school was lockstep-simple. I had no idea that the economy was tanking, that the Vietnam War had left an indelible scar on society, that the Cold War was simmering and creating fear all around me. That racial strife and social injustice were alive and well, despite how I was taught that Abraham Lincoln and Martin Luther King had fixed all of that.

Things are different today. News is inescapable. It’s delivered in a flow that is constant, ugly, and sound-bitten, and in social media venues that didn’t exist in the late ‘70s. All but our youngest kids (hopefully) are exposed to the realities of the world. Our instinct is to protect them, just as we were protected, but we really can’t. And even if we could, would that be the right way to raise them today—in blissful ignorance?

The answer is yes…and no.

Five-year-olds are amazingly perceptive. They may not know about the world’s injustices, but they certainly feel them. Nine-year-olds are built to see life in a binary, right-and-wrong way. Thirteen-year-olds are savvy with at least cursory knowledge of and opinions about truths, half-truths, and alternative truths, but can’t naturally distinguish one from the other.

These days, we need to meet children where they are.

Kindergarten teachers and parents know that these children need nurturing above all else. They need reassurance and comfort and should be shielded from terrible facts they cannot possibly understand. They can learn to be compassionate, responsible, and active global citizens by creating and maintaining strong friendships. They can learn that there is a place called “the world,” where there are people just like them who are looking for the same things in life that they are. They can be empowered to be kind to everyone at all times, no matter what.

Third graders are entering the age of reason, and parents and teachers know that their children’s questions cannot be brushed aside. Though adults might not initiate a conversation about events such as the horrors in Charlottesville, they should be prepared to field a child’s questions honestly. They should invite children to reflect on why people hate and guide them to create ideas about how hate can be eliminated in this world. They should empower children to take action on those ideas with the promise that their action can really make a difference.

The adults in the lives of seventh graders should be truthful and direct with them. It’s reasonable to be open, even provocative. It is right to initiate a conversation about facts and morality. About what white supremacists believe, what they did in places like Charlottesville, and why they are wrong. To distinguish between empty rhetoric and words that inspire moral action. Most importantly, adults can help activate their innate propensity to be compassionate, responsible global citizens by encouraging them to take action to ensure that the evils of bigotry and hatred don’t take root in their own world.

Children of all ages today feel and know much more than we think, certainly more than we did in our day. We need to honor where they are developmentally and to take them seriously. Most importantly, we need to model for them—in our words and actions--what it means to be good and just. 

Making Connections, Studying the Greats: My Fellowship at Columbia University

Connecting with other professionals...studying educational philosophy and perspectives on social justice...writing, discussing, and reflecting...these are just a few of experiences in which I engaged during my two-week fellowship in February at the Klingenstein Program for Heads of Schools at Teachers College, Columbia University.

 Our cohort 

I could fill 20 pages about the program and its impact on me. Put simply, it was one of the most rewarding experiences of my career. Here are some highlights.

• Our cohort consisted of 21 heads of independent and international schools, from places like Ghana, Germany, South Africa, Hong Kong, and Brazil. 

• In week one, we read and discussed the great educational thinkers, from the 17th century philosopher Michel de Montaigne to John Dewey, the father of progressive education.

• A requirement of the program was to write a ten-page literature review on a topic of particular impact on our schools that would yield value to other school leaders. My paper was entitled "From Surviving to Thriving: Helping Transgender Elementary Students Feel Connected to their School Community."

• The second week, we studied Leadership for Social Justice, which was extremely inspirational and energizing. We worked together to determine how our schools can be agents for social change at a time in history when such action is desperately needed.

• Working with master's degree students in the educational leadership department, we analyzed case studies from our own schools. The idea was to hear ideas about how school leaders can best handle the thorny situations of our profession, from personnel issues to fundraising conundrums.

Though there was great value in every aspect of the program, connecting with my colleagues was precious to me. We shared our own stories, school experiences, and formed friendships that will certainly last. I have already reached out to several of them to get their perspectives on a variety of issues (the "WhatsApp" communication app keeps the conversation going wonderfully).

In the end, the program’s content and approach was affirming of High Meadows and our mission. We are doing things here--putting children at the center and giving them a strong sense of agency--that have been talked about for years. We have much to learn, but much to give. I would love the opportunity to talk with you about the experience--please comment or email me if you like.

The great John Dewey and I at Teachers College, Columbia University

Embracing Spontaneity in Learning

“Spontaneity, in my view, is the best antidote to fear and habit, both of which are part of our repertoire but should not dominate. Fear and habit hold us back and make us predictable. Spontaneity opens the door to creativity and happiness, in part because of the unpredictability it brings.”

                                                                                   --Joachim Krueger, behavioral psychologist

There are lots of things to see on our expansive campus—flowers visited by interesting insects, lovely gardens, friendly ponies.

So I was a little surprised when Ethan, a first grader, stopped on our campus stroll to stare at a dripping downspout on the side of a building. “Where is the water coming from?” he wondered. We imagined the water’s downward path and our imaginations traveled upward to its origin: a gutter. In short order, Ethan determined that the gutter collected rainwater, which flowed into it from the sloped ceiling of the building. From there, we talked about the force that causes all things to be pulled downward to the lowest point: gravity.

Having goals for a child’s learning and a plan to get there is important. Our teachers have created curriculum continua to enumerate objectives at each stage of a child's development, and they plan rich learning experiences accordingly.

At the same time, spontaneity is a critical part of learning. It sparks curiosity, stokes wonderings, and sets questions ablaze. Ethan might have become interested in gravity if he were told to read in a textbook about how a downspout in a gutter system is an example of water traveling via gravity. But by discovering this simple, elegant system on his own, his innate sense of wonder made the “lesson” all the more powerful—and memorable. 

Think Kids Aren't Capable?--Think Again

Is a 10-year-old capable of higher-order, sophisticated thinking?

The traditional factory-like system of education would say "absolutely not." Kids are meant to be passive. They are in school to absorb knowledge, to listen to the teacher, to sit quietly and follow along, to behave. These are the standards on which they are judged.

At High Meadows, I regularly observe powerful evidence of the capability of young people that flies in the face of such small thinking. On Thursday mornings this spring, I am mentoring a group of fourth and fifth graders who are engaged in inquiry through our International Baccalaureate Primary Years Program. We discuss the progress of their inquiries that will lead to a capstone public exhibition at the end of the school year. 

The central idea of the students' inquiry is Humans have the ability to act on their beliefs and values to improve the relationships and health in their communities. From there, my small group narrowed their focus to Supporting medical research improves the quality of life for people today and future generations. Individual students are studying advances in research in ovarian cancer and cystic fibrosis. One student is studying how medical research on humans in space can help people here on earth. They share research studies, email responses from experts, and questions they have devised for interviewing more experts and those affected by disease. The sophistication of their thought--and their ability to accurately and passionately speak about their work--is nothing short of remarkable. 

These mornings always remind me of how capable our young students really are. It saddens me that some schools treat kids with what amounts to intellectual and social disrespect. It's no wonder so many of them dread going to school. 

This morning, the students were brimming with vivid excitement as they told me about their visit to a science museum yesterday. "There was just one thing," one of them said. "They wouldn't give us a tour guide because they said fourth and fifth graders are too young to understand and don't behave well." Despite that caveat, they led themselves through the exhibits with fascination and purpose. And good "behavior." Another student continued, "We almost told them that we were older kids who are just small for our age." Now there's some higher-order humor for you.

So back to my original question: Are 10-year-olds truly capable? At the best schools (including High Meadows, of course) the answer is an emphatic "absolutely!"

Redefining Rigor

“Demanding, difficult.” “Thorough, exhaustive, accurate.” “Strictness, severity.” All are modern definitions of “rigor" I found in various dictionaries. And I also found one particularly troubling  synonym: "misery.”

Lots of parents are looking for an “academically rigorous” school experience for their child. But I know no parent who want their kids anywhere near an “academically miserable” school.

So let’s take that word and reframe it. It’s good for kids to experience discipline, thoroughness, and challenge. But the best schools present rigorous experiences that are also deeply thoughtful, mind-expanding and exciting.

Which of these rigorous experiences do you want for your child?

Do you want plodding, closed-ended, multiple choice bubble tests with only one right answer? Or assessments that require students to analyze real-life situations and dilemmas that have more than one answer?

Do you want kids to have mountains of repetitive homework that robs them of family time and sleep? Or do you want homework that is meaningful and reasonable—like reading or practicing a modest number of math problems?

Do you want kids to memorize facts that will soon be forgotten? Or do you want them to learn how to find facts for themselves and use them in an authentic way?

A few years ago, teachers at The Lawrenceville School in New Jersey, a school widely regarded as the pinnacle of traditional rigor, conducted a powerful experiment. At the end of the academic year, the teachers administered highly traditional science tests to high schoolers. The tests were replete with facts and formulas that required significant memorization. Lawrenceville students being high achievers, it was not surprising that the average grade was 87%. In the fall of the following school year, the teachers, without prior notice, administered a nearly identical (and even simplified) test to the same group of students. The average grade? 58%. You read correctly. Students retained virtually nothing over the summer. What, then, was the value of what they had “learned?” This experiment set Lawrenceville on a new path of designing cognitively rich and meaningful experiences for its students.

The rigor of today is not what it used to be. It still implies hard work, discipline, and completeness. But it also means that students engage meaningfully, cognitively, and authentically in learning experiences.

And it certainly doesn’t have to mean misery.