The debate over the safety of vaccines heated up last month after an outbreak of measles in California. Much to the chagrin of the vast majority of the medical establishment, there are a growing number of parents today choosing not to vaccinate there children. But the facts remain:
Many parents who had healthy children before vaccinations believe the shots caused or played a key role in some form of debilitating illness.
Most medical institutions and professionals site studies that say there is no link between the mercury based preservatives found in vaccines and autism.
Other researchers say that a link is possible, and that vaccines may trigger illness in some kids.
And now 4,900 people will have their day in court seeking damages from National Vaccine Injury Compensation Program–a trust designed set up to compensate those suffering because of a vaccine.
This story out of Georgia today, while a little disturbing, is bringing the teaching of teamwork and problem solving to a whole new level. Quite frankly (regardless of whether or not these kids would have actually gone through with it or, worse yet, been successful) I’m impressed with their planning and organizational skills.
I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall (or on the monkey bars) as they hashed out the logistics.
I came home from work tonight to learn that my eight-year-old daughter has been keeping something from us.
She’s getting teased.
Thankfully it only started yesterday. But that’s two days now she’s had to endure it. I feel bad for the kid–kind of. Because tonight, after some discussion and role-playing, I think we gave her some tools that should help.
Now I kind of feel sorry for those who are going to tease her.
And actually I’m thankful this happened because the whole experience could really set a firm cornerstone in her personal development.
Here’s the story. A couple of days ago, Emma (7 years old and in 3rd grade) told a friend that she liked a boy. Now, obviously, I wasn’t there so I didn’t hear the context, but from what I know of “the boy,”— heck, I like him too.
He’s even been over to our house a couple of times. He’s nice, he’s funny, he’s polite and he’s fun. He might even be a little cute. Bottom line: he’s a good kid, and I’m glad that he and Emma are friends.
Anyway, so now kids are making kissy faces, singing “Emma loves J_____”, drawing hearts on her back with their fingers and whispering his name in her ear.
This morning, in the silence following the pledge of allegiance, some boy shouts out, “EMMA LOVES J_____!” for the whole elementary school to hear. ‘Course, it’s all over after that. Kids are joking and whispering in the halls. Poking fun at the boy. The way Emma tells it, now everybody, 1-4 is totally whipped up.
And Emma’s completely humiliated.
Apparently it got so bad that Emma’s teacher had to lecture the class about the how inappropriate all this is.
Understandably, Emma hasn’t had a great last two days.
Then tonight—we had to put our dog to sleep.
Teasing: the shame
And to top it all off she’s had trouble telling us about the teasing. I think she even started doubting herself and her feelings. Were they bad feelings? Did she do or think something wrong?
In the past, as parents, we’ve joked around the topic of “boys.” Nothing big (in my mind), but apparently big enough for Emma to cause her to hesitate.
Not good.
Talk about a kid under stress.
Teasing: getting to the truth
After she let it all out to her mom, Lisa did a smart thing. In order to get a clear picture, she asked Emma (as non-threateningly, non-judgmentally as she could) about her feelings. Did she want to hold hands? Kiss?
The answer?
“No. I just like him. You know—he’s funny.”
(WHEW! Right all you dads? You know what I’m talking about.)
Teasing: the answer (at least in this case)
Great, fine—so now about this teasing. They turned to me.
“Dad,” they asked. “What can Emma do or say to make the other kids stop teasing?”
To be honest, nothing really great came to mind. I had to think for a good while. Because really, I don’t think I’ve ever thought too much about an effective countermeasure. You can try to ignore it and hope it blows over. You could tell them to “shut-up” or “grow-up” but let’s be honest—shyah . . .like that’s gonna work!
Children are, well—childish. They’re going to keep on as long as it’s interesting and fun. So I started thinking—what was so fun about it?
Well, it’s about something mysterious: “Young Love.” Something they really have no idea about but want to appear to have the upper hand in. And then it hit me. Emma had to face it head on—without the shame, or guilt or fear that is assumed to be there.
“Emma,” I said. “These kids are teasing you because they don’t know something, and that ’something’ is a little bit scary to them. But one of the coolest things in the world is a kid (especially a young girl) with unshakable confidence. So what if you just tell them that ‘Yes, you like J___ . So what?’ What would happen?”
“Well, I did say ‘So . . .’ once to a boy that was teasing me.” She said with the hint of a smile.
. . .teasers are like dogs that chase you because you’re running.
“What happened.”
“He just stopped. He didn’t know what to say.”
“That’s right,” I said, “because teasers are like dogs that chase you because you’re running. Or better yet, like a dog that barks but backs up at while he’s doing it.”
Then Lisa came up with the best comeback yet.
“Next time a boy says, ‘Emma Loves J____,’ look him square in the face and say, ‘That’s right. I love a lot of people. And you’d better watch out because you might be next.’”
I wish you could have seen the smile spread across her face. I wish you could have heard her giggling. I hope someday you can feel the relief and joy I felt when Emma said to me, as she was brushing her teeth, “I wish I would have told you guys sooner.”
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a king living happily with his queen and two princesses. All was well in this particular kingdom until one evening. The king was putting the final touches on some speech or declaration and was just preparing to retire to the royal bedchamber when the queen came with news.
“Our daughter, the eldest princess, has informed me that she has a lump, and it pains her.”
The king’s eyes narrowed.
“It’s worrying her,” the queen continued. “It is not like her to welcome the doctor, but tonight she’s asked me to make an appointment with the royal physician. You know–and since her nanny just passed of cancer–this lump doth make her nervous.” Read the rest of this entry »
. . .but still not as magical as the “P” word (no not “please”, the other one).
We’re in the middle of a unit on persuasion right now. I love this unit because it’s so rich–it’s a great topic from which to teach so many cool things. Yes, students learn persuasive techniques so that they can better manipulate their parents and teachers, but we also hunt for these techniques when we read sales letters and advertisements (reading standards); we search for them on the radio and TV commercials (listening standards). Writing with these techniques requires discipline, a keen understanding of audience, and attention to details (writing standards). From a Language Arts perspective, it’s good stuff–great stuff.
But it’s also a blast because we get tap into a little psychology, human behavior, and begin to think a bit about thinking.
One of the mind benders I introduce is famously known (in psychological circles anyway) as the “The Copy Machine” study, conducted by Ellen Langer, the first woman to earn tenure as a professor of psychology at Harvard.
In that study, she stationed someone at a copy machine in a busy graduate school office. When someone stepped up and began copying, Dr. Langer’s plant would come up to the person and interrupt, asking to butt in and make copies. The interruption was allowed fairly often, about 60 percent of the time. But the permission was granted almost 95 percent of the time if the person stepping up to interrupt not only asked, ”May I use the copy machine?” but added a reason, ”because I’m in a rush.”
That seems to make sense. People heard the reason and decided they were willing to step aside for a moment. What was odd, Dr. Langer found, was that if the interrupter asked, ”Can I use the machine?” and added a meaningless phrase, ”because I have to make copies,” the people at the machine also stepped aside nearly 95 percent of the time.
The idea, she said, is that the listener at the copy machine heard a two-part statement: a request and something like a reason. That was all their mental script for such a situation required. They never did reflect on the fact that the interrupter’s ”reason” was not meaningful.
As a teacher, I get dozens of requests an hour. Most are fairly pedestrian:
“Can I borrow a pencil?”
“Can I go to my locker?”
“Can I get a drink?”
“Can I go to the bathroom?”
Now, after we learn a few persuasive techniques, I tell the students to persuade me. After learning about the power of the word “because,” most of them use that . . .because it’s relatively simple.
And it works even better than “please”. Still, most of them forget.
“Mr. Wondra, I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Persuade me,” I’ll say.
They’ll roll their eyes, sigh heavily, do a little potty dance.
“But Mr. Wondra! I REALLY have to go . . .BAD!”
I nod and smile. Eventually, they realize I’m not budging and so fumble around until they construct coherent request. After awhile they begin to do it automatically–or at least they remember after I look at them and say nothing.
I figure this is good teaching–reinforcing the content using a real world application–right? Plus I get to play the powerful-hoity-toity teacher role.
This was the case the other day. I was in the back of the room spot checking (quickly assessing) an assignment, when a fairly quite but confident a girl walked over.
“Mr. Wondra, can I go the bathroom?”
I looked up. There was a slight pause, but her expression never changed, and she never broke eye contact.
“. . .because I have my period.”
Talk about a persuasive argument. She knocked that one out of the park.
I started a Masters program this fall and have to tell you–it’s a blast. I’m learning so many cool things! Recently we were asked to revisit our “Philosophies of Education.” So I got to play around with this the other night.
I’ve mentioned stuff like this in passing before. But I’ve never formulated (and articulated) what I believe “education” is all about so emphatically.
We had some choices for presentation, and I went with a pamphlet type of thing that we could give to students or parents, which is pretty tough to recreate here, but I think you’ll get the gist.
I imagine I’ll continue to tweek it. I’ve already changed a couple of things even after turning it in last weekend. I’m just that way I guess.
According to former Secretary of Education Richard Riley, the top 10 in-demand jobs in 2010 did not exist in 2004.
I believe that real, lasting and valuable teaching and learning is a creative process anchored to a framework of ideas about what is possible. We live in unique times. Technology is fueling an information explosion. This has profound implications for teaching and learning. Consider, for example, these two statistical bits from one of my favorite presentations, “Shift Happens,” originally developed by Karl Fisch:
• The U.S. Department of Labor estimates that today’s learner will have 10-14 jobs by the age of 38.
• The amount of new technical information is doubling every 2 years. For students starting a four-year technical or college degree, this means that half of what they learn in their first year of study will be outdated by their third year of study.
It’s statements like these that lead me to believe that teaching, learning, and curriculum should focus less on content, and more on the skills needed to communicate, as well as creatively and critically solve problems.
In order for this to happen, I think our entire educational landscape will have to undergo paradigm shifts that will change the very structure of what we do. We must shake the very bedrock.
Big shifts like this mean risk. They mean venturing into unknown territory. They mean adventure.
10 years ago, who could have predicted Google? Who then could even foresee the problems that search engines would solve? Today, there are over 2.7 billion searches performed on Google each month. Information is expanding and change exponential. Tomorrow’s great thinkers and leaders are today’s risk takers and problem solvers.
They are our hero’s.
I believe we desperately need a new and heroic vision in education. One that can grow and adapt at today’s rate of change. One that leads in the exploration of new ideas. One that not only reads and writes and shares and analyzes information, but that also recognizes, values and nurtures a creative spirit–the spirit of the hero, unafraid of failure, able to take a hit and recover after setbacks, reassess the terrain, learn, adapt and continue on toward victory.
Students need skills that will allow them to solve problems that don’t exist yet—true. But to do this, they will also need adventurous and creative attitudes to be able to adapt to the ever-changing landscape.
Learning has just become heroic. It’s a shift, I know. But . . .
Shift Happens.
The Hero Path “We have not even to risk the hero’s adventure alone, for the heroes of all time have gone before us. The labyrinth is thoroughly known.
We have only to follow the thread of the hero path.
And where we had thought to find an abomination, we shall find a god.
And where we had thought to slay another, we shall slay ourselves.
Where we had thought to travel outward, we shall come to the center of our own existence.
And where we had thought to be alone, we shall be with all the world.”
—Joseph Campbell
This winter I was introduced to TED talks a collection of speeches by today’s most intelligent people. The range of topics are fascinating so I strongly encourage anyone to check it out.
Anyway, one of the first speeches I heard/saw (because you can, if you choose, just download the sound without the video as a podcast) was given in 2006 by Sir Ken Robinson. As soon as I saw it I was hooked. He’s brilliant.
Before I go any further, I should also say that in order to be brilliant in my book, you also have to be funny. For me, Robinson clicked on all cylinders.
So when I saw his speech at TED talks plugged on Spurgeonblog, one of my favorites, I conked myself on the noggin and thought, “Why didn’t I do that?”
And since I don’t think I can say it any better, Chris Spurgeon puts it this way:
For more than a year I’ve been forcing friends to watch this 20-minute presentation by creativity expert Sir Ken Robinson on what’s wrong with our educational system. Now it’s your turn. His talk (filmed at the 2006 TED Conference) is funny, profound, inspirational, inflammatory, and paradigm shifting Watch it and see if you don’t also want to throw out our K-12 and college curricula and start over.
Anyway, I was inspired enough by this speech to write this column titled “Why Stupidity is a Good Thing,” for a local paper. I should have linked to Robinson’s talk back then.
I bet (though you may not be aware) it got “grabbier” after that one little word—the smallest one–“or”.
As if you can’t to both. Like you have to choose.
It’s like this: When it comes to matters of faith or spirituality (or whatever you want to call it), I think there are a lot of “non-Christians” that see it this way–that Christians aren’t rational. They’re not logical. When it comes to a Christian’s faith in Jesus Christ, there is no room for debate. In short, Christians are driving with blinders on.
BELIEVE:
It is easier for a camel to fit through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to get to heaven,
Jesus is the way the truth and the light,
No one can get to heaven but through Jesus,
You need to pray,
Go to church,
Do good works,
Spread the Word
or . . . well . . . sorry but you’re probably going to Hell–don’t say I didn’t tell you so.
Consider:
Regardless of whether you believe Jesus was born of a virgin, is the son of God, or conquered death–I gotta believe he would have totally dug Seinfeld.
Good comedy cuts to the truth, exposing chinks in the armor. It says what we’re thinking–especially when we don’t know we’re thinking it. Great humor drags seriously entrenched attitudes, paradigms, and frames of reference to the public square for a good flogging.
And we laugh.
C’mon, despite the slight exaggeration, don’t you know someone with faith like Puddy’s?
How about this exchange about Elaine’s preference in men:
Jerry: So you prefer dumb and lazy to religious?
Elaine: “Dumb and lazy” I understand.
And, really, I think that about sums it up for most non-Christians I know. They just don’t “get” it.
‘Course neither do many Christians (ie Puddy). Sorry, but many sign up, then call it good. You know, they go to church, listen to the sermon, sing the hymns, stand, sit, kneel, memorize all the stuff. They learn the stories and do their best to be good people, but never really consider the metaphor.
Because when you start to play around with the metaphor, you have to take the red pill–and then the rabbit hole gets pretty deep.
But that’s not so much what I wanted to talk about today.
I just thought I’d mention it . . .
What I wanted to share today was how I’m trying to teach Jesus’ lessons to my kids–without strapping on the blinders.
Because I’ve been on both sides of the fence. I was born a Lutheran. My parents made me go to Sunday school, confirmation and all that. We prayed before supper (if we didn’t have company). And we prayed the Lord’s prayer before bed. But we never really discussed it. We just did it–I think because that’s how my parents grew up.
So, naturally I didn’t take much stock in any of it. I might even go as far as to say that I rejected it all thinking religion to be okay for the weak or hypocritical–but not for me.
Recently, however, I’ve found a current of peace and strength so deep, so calm . . .
To quote the song, “Dive,” by Steven Curtis Chapman:
There is a supernatural power
In this mighty river’s flow
It can bring the dead to life
And it can fill an empty soul
And give a heart the only thing
Worth living and worth dying for . . .
. . .The river’s deep,
the river’s wide,
the river’s water is alive . . .”
So there you have it. A little transparency so you know where I stand–sort of.
And here is just one example of what I’m doing with my girls. Together, we say the Lord’s prayer before bed. Just like I did when I was a kid. And they like it. If I neglect it, they request it. I think they like the sameness of it. The ritual. It’s sort of like a way to anchor the day. Wrap it up. Call it good.
But then I like to mess with ‘em.
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.
“What do you think that means,” I ask.
“What, Dad?” a little exasperation in her voice.
“who art in heaven. What does art mean? And what about hallowed be thy name? What’s all that gibberish?”
And so, over time we’ve gone through it. Bit by bit. Verse by verse, we’ve picked it apart, we’ve clarified, and we’ve asked if it makes sense to say “Our Father and forgive us our trespasses” and whatnot if we are saying the prayer alone. So now not only do they know it by rote memory, but the eight year old can paraphrase it.
Which, I think, is a good first step.
Tonight it went this way,
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name,
Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven,
Give us this day our daily bread and forgive . . .
“Hey wait a second,” I interrupted (again).
“Now what Dad?” Emma’s on the top bunk so I couldn’t see her, but I could hear her eyes rolling in her head.
“We should be saying this prayer in the morning, not at night.”
“Why?”
“Because it says, “Give us this day our daily bread. This Day. But this day–you know today–is done now. Why are we asking for what we need for today when today is done?”
Silence
“Dad . . .”
“Yeah?” I said.
Silence. It was a long pause.
“Are you picking your nose again?” I finally said.
“No!” she giggled. “Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Can we just say the rest tonight, and . . . you know.”
A story coming out of Orlando, Florida today outlines with broad strokes how Middle School teacher, Kasey Goodin, was suspended for her recent creative use of duct tape in the classroom. Here is the actual lead for that story:
A middle school teacher accused of using duct tape to bind a student to his desk was suspended for more than a week without pay for the alleged incident.
Quick experiment: Do this right now. On a scale of 1-10, how outraged are you by that headline and lead?
1 = “I think this is funny.”
5 = “I couldn’t care less one way or the other.”
10= “The thought that a teacher would do this pisses me off big time.”
Just humor me and jot your answer down somewhere next to the letter “A”.
Great, now let’s move on by filling in some of the blanks with some text I selected from the story.
Goodin took that duct tape and taped the student’s leg to his desk before she used the masking tape to tape his hands and his face.
Goodin claims it was a joke.
The student involved has since been removed from Goodin’s classroom.
“It’s just not funny for a child to be taped, whether it’s in jest or it’s a disciplinary measure,” said school board chair Betty Burney.
Burney was the only board member who voted against Goodin’s 10-day suspension, saying she didn’t think the punishment was harsh enough.
Board members also voted that the teacher should get counseling.
Alright lets take a break for another quick poll. Using the same scale as above please rate your amount of outrage again. This time put your number score next to the letter “B”.
Okay. Now let’s fill in with a little more information and hear a bit from Goodin herself. Again, this was taken from the actual text of the story:
In Goodin’s written account of what happened in the classroom, the teacher said, “There was a light-hearted mood in the class as I walked to the supply closet and removed a roll of purple duct tape and a roll of masking tape … The class was laughing. I was laughing. The student was laughing.”
“The masking tape was applied to the student’s hands. The student immediately removed it, laughing throughout the incident. Within the next few minutes, the ‘play’ was over, the tape was removed,”
She ended her account stating, “This incident, was in reality, an opportunity to have fun with the students while getting a message to them. Looking back, I know that it was inappropriate for me to break the lines of formality.”
“The reason why we didn’t go for something as severe as dismissal, it did appear at least it started out as something more lighthearted,” said Duval County Superintendent Ed Pratt-Dannals.
Board members said the teaching position at Kirby is the teacher’s first job and she has shown good behavior in the past.
“I understand that it was a young teacher. I just felt that we needed to send a stronger message,” said Burney.
So now what do you think? Was this punishment justified? Was Goodin out of line? Should the board have sent a “stronger message”?
Now what’s your score? Call it “C.” Did anything change from A-C?
If you feel no empathy for Goodin at this point–you’re obviously not, nor have you ever been, a middle school teacher. And that’s fine.
I would have liked to have been a fly on the wall in that classroom. I have a feeling this got blown completely out of proportion. I may be wrong. Part of me almost hopes I am and that the incident was serious enough to warrant a 10-day suspension and national news coverage.
Because if it wasn’t–if it was all just a bit of fun–I’m pretty sure we just sucked all the spark and spontaneity from one more teacher’s classroom. And the sensationalist press is just as much to blame. One thing that I’ve learned as a blogger is that half the time, with a story like this, people never read past the headline. This doesn’t stop them from commenting and spreading toxic anger however.
A teacher duct taped a student to a desk! That’s obviously wrong! I’m mad! What’s more to know? (Insert your opinion on the state of education here)
Great. Just what we need–more “formality” in the learning environment.
A couple of weeks ago I read an amusing column by Joe Soucheray in the St. Paul Pioneer Press. In it he wrote about how the educational system we’re pouring billions of dollars into is failing because it continues to crank out idiots who (among other things) don’t understand that you can actually die from drinking too much water.
Refreshingly, Soucheray’s conclusion wasn’t that teachers aren’t doing their jobs. It was that people are just dumber than they used to be. He wasn’t sure why, but based on how easy it is to find examples of stupidity today, he was quite sure people just don’t have the brains they used to.
He did make some interesting points. If you stop to think about it, initially, it does seem like the number of dumb people is on the rise. Indeed, late night TV talk shows have been ahead of the curve on this one. Except for terrible singers, nothing’s funnier than stupidity. What a great country. Where else is it possible for a society to capitalize on it’s own weaknesses?
It certainly is an easy argument to make. As Jay Leno has shown us, it’s really not that hard to find stupid people these days. Be it history, geography, literature, grammar, current events or mathematics, millions of Americans should know more than they do. This is something I think we can almost all agree upon. It’s why we, as a nation, are always so concerned about the state of education. I mean, when was the last time you heard someone say, “Boy our schools sure are great. Kids today are smarter than ever.”?
But if this is the case—if, for some reason, Americans are indeed getting dumber—logically we should begin to see a drop in the productivity of U.S. workers. Right? But we’re not. According to the U.S. government, worker productivity has been on the rise since the early ‘90s and has accelerated dramatically in the last five years.
According to a recent article in INC. magazine, just one example of this rise in productivity can be found in the insurance industry. On average, in 1991, a worker in insurance contributed $85,000 in revenue to his or her company. Today it’s $250,000. So I guess the only conclusion we can make now is that stupid people (and bad singers), while funny, are still great for the economy.
The problem with the argument that schools are failing or that people are dumber is that they both contain faulty assumptions—that we know what people today should know in order to be productive members of society. Or better yet—we can know.
Children in kindergarten today will be graduating from high school in the year 2019. We don’t know what the world will look like in five years. What are the specific sets of facts or skills that are going to be valuable in the year 2019 and beyond? Will it be important to know where Edmonton is? Should everyone in that graduating class be required to know about John Smith and Pocahontas? How about the capital of
Rhode Island or the elements of the periodic table?
Maybe we should be asking Jay Leno these questions.
Our current educational model was built to meet the needs of industrialism. As such, it is assumes that you should know certain things, and you should be afraid of making mistakes—just like you should be afraid of your boss and to make mistakes on the job. Tests are given so that we know that you know certain things. But let’s face it. Some kids are rebellious. Some kids just don’t care about tests. And sometimes, try as we might, we simply can’t make them afraid.
So today, understanding the complex interplay between all of the issues surrounding society and education, American politicians have devised a system called No Child Left Behind–so that others can be afraid for them. And I think it’s working. Administrators, teachers and school boards across the nation are wringing their hands over test data, devising complex and thorough systems to identify children at risk, and redoubling their efforts to differentiate instruction to fit the unique learning styles of each student.
Thankfully, however, educators aren’t fighting this battle alone. Drs. and pharmaceutical companies are also doing their part by creating and distributing drugs that help fidgety kids stay focused.
“Every educational system around the world has the same hierarchy of subjects,” says Sir Ken Robinson, an expert educator and Senior Consultant for the Paul J. Getty Trust. “At the top are mathematics and languages, then the humanities, and at the bottom are the arts. And even within the arts is a hierarchy too. Art and music are usually given a higher status than drama and dance. There isn’t an educational system in the world that teaches children dance every day the way we do mathematics.
“Truly what happens as children grow up is that we start to educate them progressively from the waist up. And then we focus on their heads—and slightly to one side,” he says.
Robinson concludes that the whole purpose of educational systems around the world is to produce university professors. What he advocates we do instead, is to cultivate creativity.
In 1934, Gillian Lynne’s teachers thought there was something wrong with the eight year old because she couldn’t sit still. She couldn’t focus and wasn’t getting anything done. So they recommended her parents bring her to a Dr..
After the initial examination, the Dr. asked her mother to step with him out of the room, leaving the young Gillian on her own. But before he left, he flipped on the radio. Outside, the Dr. simply asked Gillian’s mother to watch her through the window.
“Your daughter is not sick, Mrs. Lynne,” said the Dr.. “She’s a dancer. Take her to a dance school.”
Luckily, she did, and Gillian Lynne excelled. Eventually she met Andrew Lloyd Webber, and has since composed for some of the most successful musicals in history– including “Cats” and “Phantom of the Opera.” She’s been extremely successful in her career, contributed greatly to society and culture, given pleasure to millions and is a millionaire many times over.
But I wonder two things:
Wouldn’t she have just been better off with some ADHD medication, and
Does she know that drinking too much water can kill you?
