So, this year I started a journey. At best, it will result in a book.
As worst, it will result in a lot of thinking and reflecting for me to help me continue to grow as an educator without a product, and I am 100% good with that.
I say it like I don't want to write the book, but in all honesty, the idea of it really excites me. An off-hand comment that a colleague made to me about sharing my ideas with the world is what spurred the idea. I'm mostly excited about it because I wish it was the book someone had written for me when I started my journey down the path of looking for a better way when it comes to education.
Here's the premise of it: innovation is truly transformative when, and only when, certain elements are in place.
I call these elements indicators because they are focused on things that you can actually see students doing. So often we base our opinion of whether or not something is innovative based on what the teacher is doing or which tools they are using. Innovation that changes our teaching but not the learning isn't innovation. It's just different. And frankly, it's just frustrating.
Because here's the truth: attempting to change your teaching is one of the most challenging, frustrating, and doubt-inducing things you can do as a teacher.
You know why there are teachers who've used the same worksheets for the past twenty years, the ones that are photocopied so many times that they look like a tattoo that was done by someone over twenty years ago with a ballpoint pen and way too much caffeine in their system?
More than likely, that teacher tried to change early on. They tried to be innovative. They tried out the new, flashy idea...and they hated it. They crashed and burned. They watched what was an organized classroom descend into something terrible. At that point, they decided to play it safe.
But here's the thing: it is impossible to teach and play it completely safe for everyone because either we take risks in the present in our teaching or we risk the future of our students. I don't think this is emphasized enough. Every choice we make in the classroom involves risk; our choice simply decides who's going to experience it. We, as teachers, could play it safe and avoid taking risks. We can teach kids in rows, lecture all day, give tests, and know that everything is clean and orderly. We personally feel safe because we aren't risking anything for ourselves.
That doesn't mean there's no risk, though. The risk in choosing not to change isn't gone; it's just is now placed on the student who's going to go from a classroom where they sit down, shut up, and follow along into a workplace where you have to work in teams, think creatively about new solutions, and function as an independent learner.
So, teachers, isn't that kid worth the risk? If we're weighing the risk of being uncomfortable and out of our element as we try something new versus the risk of not preparing a student to be successful in the modern world, do we really have a choice?
I understood that early on. What I didn't understand was how to take those risks in a meaningful way with a clear vision behind them.
For some example of these misguided attempts, let's go through a list of Tyler's worst "innovative" ideas from early in his career (and some that are embarrassingly recent):
Before I get to these examples, I want to clarify something (that my wife, the amazing MaryBeth Zins (Elementary Explorer, pointed out to me): if any of these examples that I'm making fun of are things that you want to do or are interested in, do them! It's not the activity or the product that was the problem; it was the way I went about them. That's the whole point of this blog series (and maybe the book) - to empower you to do things so much better than I did!
1. Websites, specifically my Romeo and Juliet websites. I teach freshman ELA, and like all good (and young and afraid to lose their job for breaking away) curriculum-following freshman ELA teachers, I teach Romeo and Juliet. Don't get me started on what I think about whole class novels. I wanted to make it cool and integrate technology into it, so I thought, "Let's make some websites!" That was literally all the planning I did for the websites. I just thought kids would put great stuff on there and because I used technology, it would be amazing. Then, towards the end of the unit, one of my students asked, "Mr., why are we making websites?" That simple question slapped me in the face. I thought that because I was being "innovative" by using tech that my students would love it and it would completely change my classroom. I substituted the word website for the word worksheet and gave myself a high-five.
How did that attempt at innovation go? This well.
2. Self-paced learning gone wrong. This one was more recent than I'd like to admit. It was one of my first major attempts at really "giving students control" for a whole unit. By that, I mean I took all the content I was going to deliver and all the assignments students were going to do, and I packaged them into a fancy website (seems to be a common denominator here) that I had kids follow like it was a recipe and they were, well, me (a terrible baker). What did it end up being? A packet, but like, the fanciest packet you've ever seen. About halfway through, I gave up on it. Kids started to hate it. I thought I had given them control, but really I kept all the control and just made them do things by themselves.
How did that attempt turn out? I was this kid and the plane was my classroom.
3. Kids teaching Shakespeare terms. Okay, this one doesn't really fit, but I have to share it. I love having kids teach each other. It's super cool to see. Most of the time. The time it isn't cool to see is when you are assigning terms to students and assign one group "double entendre" (definition: a word or phrase open to two interpretations, one of which is usually risqué or indecent) and then tell each group they have to look up examples. When those kids called me over to their computer to look at the examples they found, I mentally started packing up my desk. The internet is an awesome and a horrible place all at the same time. Learned that lesson that day.
This = me, as I realize what's happening and internally start screaming, "NOOOOOOOO."
The problem with all these examples wasn't the idea that I had. I absolutely think kids should be making websites. I completely think that students should have ownership over the pace of the learning. I 100% don't think I should ever have kids look up examples for double entendre ever again, but I also 100% think kids should be learning to lead and teaching others.
Just as importantly, I learned a ton from these failures. Whenever I plan units, I still use the lessons I learned from these.
The problem with these examples was that I had an idea but no framework through which to evaluate the idea. I knew what would be good for kids, but I only knew the snapshot, the surface level. I knew the flashy things that I saw on Twitter and heard during keynotes, but I wasn't focused on the meaningful elements that were below the surface.
That's really what this series aims to unpack. What are the elements below the surface of the flashy projects that make innovation truly meaningful? More importantly, how do we embed those elements into the foundation of our classroom so that everything we do is centered around elements that truly transform the learning experience of the students in our classroom.
Because that's really the answer to all of this: our students. Why is it worth it to try something new and scary with our teaching? Why is it worth it to go out on a limb with a new project? Why should we question what we've always done to see if there's a better way?
I can't give you that answer, but tomorrow, look out at the amazing kids you have sitting in your room. They are your answer.
It's risky to try something new, but it's way riskier to not provide those students with a learning experience that prepares them for their future.
So, that's the journey we are on. How do we make innovation meaningful? What are the essential elements that need to be in play in order to ensure that we aren't just chasing butterflies through a meadow?
We'll kick it all off in the next post.
If you want to stay in the loop, click the "Subscribe" button up at the top of the page.
Otherwise, well, maybe you can wait for the book.
As worst, it will result in a lot of thinking and reflecting for me to help me continue to grow as an educator without a product, and I am 100% good with that.
I say it like I don't want to write the book, but in all honesty, the idea of it really excites me. An off-hand comment that a colleague made to me about sharing my ideas with the world is what spurred the idea. I'm mostly excited about it because I wish it was the book someone had written for me when I started my journey down the path of looking for a better way when it comes to education.
Here's the premise of it: innovation is truly transformative when, and only when, certain elements are in place.
I call these elements indicators because they are focused on things that you can actually see students doing. So often we base our opinion of whether or not something is innovative based on what the teacher is doing or which tools they are using. Innovation that changes our teaching but not the learning isn't innovation. It's just different. And frankly, it's just frustrating.
Because here's the truth: attempting to change your teaching is one of the most challenging, frustrating, and doubt-inducing things you can do as a teacher.
You know why there are teachers who've used the same worksheets for the past twenty years, the ones that are photocopied so many times that they look like a tattoo that was done by someone over twenty years ago with a ballpoint pen and way too much caffeine in their system?
More than likely, that teacher tried to change early on. They tried to be innovative. They tried out the new, flashy idea...and they hated it. They crashed and burned. They watched what was an organized classroom descend into something terrible. At that point, they decided to play it safe.
But here's the thing: it is impossible to teach and play it completely safe for everyone because either we take risks in the present in our teaching or we risk the future of our students. I don't think this is emphasized enough. Every choice we make in the classroom involves risk; our choice simply decides who's going to experience it. We, as teachers, could play it safe and avoid taking risks. We can teach kids in rows, lecture all day, give tests, and know that everything is clean and orderly. We personally feel safe because we aren't risking anything for ourselves.
That doesn't mean there's no risk, though. The risk in choosing not to change isn't gone; it's just is now placed on the student who's going to go from a classroom where they sit down, shut up, and follow along into a workplace where you have to work in teams, think creatively about new solutions, and function as an independent learner.
So, teachers, isn't that kid worth the risk? If we're weighing the risk of being uncomfortable and out of our element as we try something new versus the risk of not preparing a student to be successful in the modern world, do we really have a choice?
I understood that early on. What I didn't understand was how to take those risks in a meaningful way with a clear vision behind them.
For some example of these misguided attempts, let's go through a list of Tyler's worst "innovative" ideas from early in his career (and some that are embarrassingly recent):
Before I get to these examples, I want to clarify something (that my wife, the amazing MaryBeth Zins (Elementary Explorer, pointed out to me): if any of these examples that I'm making fun of are things that you want to do or are interested in, do them! It's not the activity or the product that was the problem; it was the way I went about them. That's the whole point of this blog series (and maybe the book) - to empower you to do things so much better than I did!
1. Websites, specifically my Romeo and Juliet websites. I teach freshman ELA, and like all good (and young and afraid to lose their job for breaking away) curriculum-following freshman ELA teachers, I teach Romeo and Juliet. Don't get me started on what I think about whole class novels. I wanted to make it cool and integrate technology into it, so I thought, "Let's make some websites!" That was literally all the planning I did for the websites. I just thought kids would put great stuff on there and because I used technology, it would be amazing. Then, towards the end of the unit, one of my students asked, "Mr., why are we making websites?" That simple question slapped me in the face. I thought that because I was being "innovative" by using tech that my students would love it and it would completely change my classroom. I substituted the word website for the word worksheet and gave myself a high-five.
How did that attempt at innovation go? This well.
2. Self-paced learning gone wrong. This one was more recent than I'd like to admit. It was one of my first major attempts at really "giving students control" for a whole unit. By that, I mean I took all the content I was going to deliver and all the assignments students were going to do, and I packaged them into a fancy website (seems to be a common denominator here) that I had kids follow like it was a recipe and they were, well, me (a terrible baker). What did it end up being? A packet, but like, the fanciest packet you've ever seen. About halfway through, I gave up on it. Kids started to hate it. I thought I had given them control, but really I kept all the control and just made them do things by themselves.
How did that attempt turn out? I was this kid and the plane was my classroom.
3. Kids teaching Shakespeare terms. Okay, this one doesn't really fit, but I have to share it. I love having kids teach each other. It's super cool to see. Most of the time. The time it isn't cool to see is when you are assigning terms to students and assign one group "double entendre" (definition: a word or phrase open to two interpretations, one of which is usually risqué or indecent) and then tell each group they have to look up examples. When those kids called me over to their computer to look at the examples they found, I mentally started packing up my desk. The internet is an awesome and a horrible place all at the same time. Learned that lesson that day.
This = me, as I realize what's happening and internally start screaming, "NOOOOOOOO."
The problem with all these examples wasn't the idea that I had. I absolutely think kids should be making websites. I completely think that students should have ownership over the pace of the learning. I 100% don't think I should ever have kids look up examples for double entendre ever again, but I also 100% think kids should be learning to lead and teaching others.
Just as importantly, I learned a ton from these failures. Whenever I plan units, I still use the lessons I learned from these.
The problem with these examples was that I had an idea but no framework through which to evaluate the idea. I knew what would be good for kids, but I only knew the snapshot, the surface level. I knew the flashy things that I saw on Twitter and heard during keynotes, but I wasn't focused on the meaningful elements that were below the surface.
That's really what this series aims to unpack. What are the elements below the surface of the flashy projects that make innovation truly meaningful? More importantly, how do we embed those elements into the foundation of our classroom so that everything we do is centered around elements that truly transform the learning experience of the students in our classroom.
Because that's really the answer to all of this: our students. Why is it worth it to try something new and scary with our teaching? Why is it worth it to go out on a limb with a new project? Why should we question what we've always done to see if there's a better way?
I can't give you that answer, but tomorrow, look out at the amazing kids you have sitting in your room. They are your answer.
It's risky to try something new, but it's way riskier to not provide those students with a learning experience that prepares them for their future.
So, that's the journey we are on. How do we make innovation meaningful? What are the essential elements that need to be in play in order to ensure that we aren't just chasing butterflies through a meadow?
We'll kick it all off in the next post.
If you want to stay in the loop, click the "Subscribe" button up at the top of the page.
Otherwise, well, maybe you can wait for the book.
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