Tag: learning

Schools want students to be creative, but only on a Thursday afternoon

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Right off the bat I just want to say, that this post will likely pose more questions than give you solid answers. In many ways though pursuing those questions on creativity and pondering on what they mean in our schools is a worthy call to action in itself.

Fascinated by anything related to the research on creativity, I stumbled on this post from Fast Company about some of the pointers we can get from science.

Admittedly there is some good stuff there amongst the usual mix of “daydreaming and trying new things is good”. What struck me was the parting shot about the resistance to unconventional ideas and the public reaction to non-conformist concepts.

Some of the best ideas are widely ridiculed before they’re revered.

My radar for this sort of stuff is heightened as I recently wrote about the bias against creative ideas we might hold if we are feeling high levels of uncertainty. Creativity bias as a real thing.

The article elaborated further, but started to stray to a slightly different path to close:

Research suggests that whatever nonconformist tendencies we may have as children are often driven out of us by the rote learning and direct instruction utilized in schools, which may counteract our more exploratory and creative modes of thinking and learning.

We are on different track now. These last comments are about the characteristics of those who are creative — not the ideas themselves. It also, obviously, draws in the impact of how we learn and the environmental influence of school — not the ideas themselves.

A final reference to the resistance to those “creative types” points the finger at teachers: “teachers have been found to display a clear preference for students who show less creativity.”

Which led me to a stream of questions:

  • How strong was the influence of school on how creative we are at school?
  • What long term impact does school have on our levels of creativity?
  • How can teacher education help deepen the understanding around what creativity is and how it might manifest in the classroom?
  • How creative is the teaching profession?
  • What are the ideal conditions in school for creativity to flourish?

The body of research referred to here does indeed reveal that:

One of the most consistent findings in educational research into creativity has been that teachers dislike personality traits associated with creativity. Research has indicated that teachers prefer traits that seem to run counter to creativity, such as conformity and unquestioning acceptance of authority.

The commentary on this sort of research points to the futility of the alternative. Suggesting that if we did have a group of 30 young expressive, creative thinkers it would be some version of chaos.

This (preference for non-creative students) shouldn’t be too surprising: Would you really want a little Picasso in your class? How about a baby Gertrude Stein? Or a teenage Eminem? The point is that the classroom isn’t designed for impulsive expression — that’s called talking out of turn. Instead, it’s all about obeying group dynamics and exerting focused attention. Those are important life skills, of course, but decades of psychological research suggest that such skills have little to do with creativity.

Just to answer the questions posed here: yes, yes and absolutely yes.

For me this all points to the education system and not the individual teacher who has become a product of that system.

Compliance and conformity only gets us so far and they certainly don’t rank highly in environments that encourage creativity and innovation.

I recently re-discovered and re-read this lovely essay on creativity by Issac Asimov, in which he suggests some ideas for creating the conditions for others to generate ideas which I have paraphrased below:

  • Daring cross-connection
  • Free of responsibility
  • Thoroughly relaxed
  • Deep knowledge
  • Discussing something of interest
  • Being by nature unconventional

Take a moment to consider each of these in relation to “school” and places of learning.

We suffer the fallout and collateral damage from too heavy a focus on explicit teaching, direct instruction, conformity and compliance, let’s throw in high stakes assessment whilst we are at it.

That damage is the marginalisation of the conditions for children to be strongly creative little souls and the conditions for innovative teaching.

In what ways might we expand these conditions from the margins? How might we establish a common understanding of the key environmental and cultural conditions for innovation and creativity? In what ways might we learn about creativity and use that to inform our teaching practice?

Name Your Perspective

Discussion, Leadership, Learning, ThinkingPublished on1 Comment on Name Your Perspective

If you have spent any time with me in small group development sessions you will likely have heard me talking deliberately about perspective. I am always keen to make explicit what can often be an implied understanding or concept. Trying to name up front and from the outset assumptions we might be making is a handy habit to get into. The same is true about the perspective we might be taking towards a discussion or dialogue.

I think one of the challenges we face is in our ability to zoom in and out in terms of our thinking and when in collaboration or discussion with others.

When I say “zoom in” I mean taking heed of the “Micro” perspective, the daily grind the specific, concrete things that might be happening in the classroom. Paying attention to the “Individual” would also be common with a “Micro” perspective. With this lens we are paying less attention to the larger more abstract goals at play and focusing on the concrete decisions and actions in the classroom. When we zoom in we might be asking “How” or “What” questions.

“Zoom out” to a wide angle lens and we bring into view the “Organisation” level goals and aspirations. They might be much less concrete to allow many people to get on-board, so our perspective is more abstract. We are thinking less about ourselves and the concrete stuff that might get in the way of whole school progress. When we zoom out we ask “Why” questions to get to the drivers of our actions and decisions. We have to be more comfortable dealing in a more abstract currency.

I typically signal the perspective I am taking to help set the expectations about a particular part of a discussion. I think it helps me make explicit my choice of perspective and also allows a group to quickly appreciate the expectations that come with that perspective. Micro = details, Macro = drivers.

“Let’s zoom out for a second and consider the reason why this programme needs to change in this way.”

“If we think about a wider lens for a moment we can see that this decision fits with what we are choosing to do across the school.”

“OK now let’s zoom back into what this means in terms of the day to day. How could we explore this everyday?”

“What about the learners experience of this? Let’s jump back into the classroom for a second and consider how this concept would be evidenced in the classroom.”

In most discussions we might move fluidly between the concrete and the abstract. So perhaps start with why but keep returning to it. By doing so we continue to rationalise our actions or ideas and ensure they are connected to a bigger picture.

Perhaps the challenge is not just zooming out to think in an abstract way or zooming in to consider the concrete actions, but more precisely how effectively, fluidly and quickly we can move between those perspectives. Another layer to this is of course how synchronised our perspective is with others we are with.

By explicitly naming a perspective in dialogue we are forming good mental cues to ourselves and external cues for others to gain a better understanding. I think we can all benefit from solid thinking habits that tether our concrete ideas to the drivers and the broader rationale.

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The winds of change are blowing wild and free

UncategorisedPublished on3 Comments on The winds of change are blowing wild and free

The word has finally been made public that I am leaving my job at the end of June.

After five years working as a consultant I have decided to start my own business here in Australia. I want to build on the work and ideas I have been developing over the last ten years or so. I am both excited and anxious, but mainly I feel calm, ready and determined.

I am sure that my writing will shift to charting that journey, as I start up and as Dialogic Learning takes some strides into the world.

Dialogic is a way to describe some of my best work. Developing capacity in others and leading organisational change requires dialogue, it requires strong, trusting relationships. I know I can form these quickly and that this establishes a great platform to do creative, challenging work. My new business will focus on that.

My understanding and expertise with the creative process has grown and I still believe that teaching, and learning design, requires our deepest creative skills. Dialogic Learning will focus on helping people improve their creative process.

There is still a lot more to develop, share and write about as I build things up over the next three months or so (and also look back on the last few years). I have created a little holding page for now, just to countdown until go time and where you can sign up for updates and get in touch.

I have had some great support from all sorts of different people as word has spread. My online networks have played an integral role in my thinking and development over the years and I want to keep it that way.

Thankyou, more soon.

The Trouble With Passion Based Learning

LearningPublished onUpdated on1 Comment on The Trouble With Passion Based Learning

It would seem that the concept of passion based learning (the other type of PBL) has found a place amongst the burgeoning lexicon we use to describe what happens in school these days. The emergence of the phrase has always left me feeling a little uncomfortable.

I get that we should be passionate as teachers. But basing our learning on the presence or pursuit of passion, feels somewhat vexing.

This post from Ainissa Ramirez is filled with provocations and worth a wander through to get some cogs whirring. But you might soon strike trouble, as I have done with what is shared

There are two ways to get a child passionate about something:

1) Find out what each child is innately passionate about.
2) Be an instructor that exudes passion for the topic, and infect your students with that excitement.

Only a few of us have benefited from the first option, but all of us can benefit from the second one. That is the power of passion.

Like I said, I also believe that exuding passion for learning as a teacher sets you apart. It is the difference between those who are just there, and those who are memorable. I am passionate about stories, I hope my students remember the tales we explored and those we crafted together. I am passionate about how technology can immerse us in new worlds, I hope my students remember those places we visited and those we built.

Can you remember those memorable teachers? We saw in them their spark, a glow that we bathed in and gravitated towards. A light that seemed to offer a surefooted certainty and steadfast platform for us to build on. Their unswerving passion draped over every word and action.

This is from an article I wrote about the purpose of education:

To work in education it helps to be passionate. I want my son to see the drive and determination in another person at some point in the next few years. I want him to feel that human to human inspiration that is so powerful. Education should be about giving young people inspiration and belief — these can come from the environment that surrounds them. But it will probably resonate more strongly from one passionate person.

What is the purpose of education? – The Curious Creative

But I didn’t become passionate just because someone else was, it wasn’t that easy. And that is my first concern with the beguiling two step process shared by Ramirez. Excitement is one thing, passion is quite different. Like the difference between empathy and engagement. The other issue is that we can simply find out what students are passionate about, like it is that simple. I think the opposite is true.

When we ask primary age students what they are passionate about, we are not asking something appropriate to their age.

Passion is not something you follow. It’s something that will follow you as you put in the hard work to become valuable to the world.

Cal Newport wrote this back in 2012 in a piece about changing our view on the career advice of “follow your passion.” Assuming that every child will have something innately representative of a passion is a bit of a stretch. Especially when they are 8.

I am grateful to Kate Montgomery for sharing some of her own thinking on this and helping me discover the Cal Newport article. Kate explains her own point of view:

And what if you don’t know what your passion is? The idea that you should pursue your passions like you just know what they are is also not quite right, to me. I’ve never known what my passions were, in a professional or even personal sense, because I was regarding passion as synonymous with ease and lack-of-fear.

The emphasis and pressure to “have a passion” for kids is counter intuitive. Every child needs the space and time to discover who they are. If we are genuine then this timeline might not fit neatly into the planning cycle for a school term. In fact it is just as likely to reach further into their lives, far beyond the bells of school.

We should take the pressure off kids and offer them a breadth of experiences whilst they are with us in school. Seek out new ideas and perspectives to share with them. Encourage and support their interests. Surround children with passionate people, so they can bathe in those lights and they can be inspired by others. Perhaps then, they will have the best possible conditions to maybe figure it out for themselves.

Dear Mr Judgy Pants,

FeedbackPublished onUpdated on4 Comments on Dear Mr Judgy Pants,

Thanks for squashing my idea. You cut me off as I was sharing it and threw it on the ground. You trampled on my idea. You made me watch as you extinguished that precious little spark and yeah, you squashed it.

We obviously approached the chat from different places. You see, I thought we were there to share some ideas. You know, like new things we hadn’t considered yet. It seemed you had just brought your pre-loaded high calibre idea sniper rifle. Those ideas didn’t stand a chance; I mean they barely had a moment to breathe.

But did you hear that other sound? No? Well, you were busy dropping and squashing ideas, so how could you. That was the sound of a crack in my creative confidence. It’ll be a while before that gets fixed. I hope it gets fixed.

When you look around the room and notice others, yeah, those other quieter voices. Or even the silent ones. You know why they are silent, right? The cracks in their confidence haven’t been fixed. Creative cracks just grew. They still have ideas; I know that. They just keep quiet, choosing not to participate in the fortnightly Idea Duck Hunt.

I just wanted to let you know that there are thousands of idea headstones carved because of people like you. We mourn those precious little sparks, those little glimpses of something new, different and unexpected. We still think about those ideas and the fleeting moments we had with them.

Although our gradual creative grief makes us not want to share, our ideas keep coming. They brim up when we least expect it — entrusted to our notebooks, napkins and daydreams. We know they will have their time in the sun probably when you and your shadow have moved on.

Thanks, but no thanks.