On Creating a Place Where We All Want to Wake up and Go

By Laura Moore

"I love learning, but the last time I loved school was elementary school."

For as long as I live, I'll never forget her words, her face, the confession she gave as she sat in front of 27 of her peers, 16 teachers, a counselor and an administrator at a Design Thinking Workshop in the Graf Center yesterday.

Her words inspired all of us to dig deeper, to open up wider, and to connect more meaningfully with each other as we, collectively, shed our inhibitions, broke patterns, and imagined ways we could bring joy back to the classroom.

Before we got to that point though, Daniel Paccione, the IB Coordinator and Director of Global Studies for EF Academy in New York, Oxford and Torbay, invited us to participate in several ice-breaker activities where teachers and students drew one another in 30 seconds, determined how to get from point A to point B on a image he projected, identified the what, how and why in another image, and reflected on how we are creative and what motivates us to solve problems.

Throughout these exercises, Paccione reminded us of the value in diverse ways of thinking and experiencing the world, and he encouraged us to appreciate the value we bring to the process of creative problem-solving. As he did this, he also worked to dispel the myths of creativity: that only some people and some ideas are creative, that something has to be complicated or important to be creative, and that creativity is stifled by school.

Paccione then led us through the six stages of design thinking using the gift-giving process as a starting point. We conducted empathic interviews about the last time our partner gave a gift, and through those interviews we strove to understand their perspective: what motivates that person, inspires him or her, drives him or her and/or frustrates him or her.

After listening and learning, we narrowed down and defined what we heard, identified what needed to be addressed, and embarked on a boundless ideation process, where we came up with as many ideas as possible to help our partner improve his or her future gift-giving experience. Ideas in hand, we consulted our partner for feedback, learned which ideas resonated and what we needed to improve, merge or eliminate. Then, we pursued a rapid prototype construction of the most promising idea and handed it over to our partner so he or she--and eventually the entire room--could see the physical manifestation of our concept.

Beginning the ideation process

              

Constructing a prototype

Putting all of our prototypes in the center of a circle

As we reflected on the process, people shared differing reactions. Some found the entire experience liberating because the partner check-ins made it feel more collaborative. In other words, they felt their imperfect design belonged to more than just them. Others felt okay with the messiness because everyone else was in the same boat. And still others struggled with offering up a product before it was perfected.

As we discussed our experiences, Paccione made a case for why it's okay to have imperfect ideas when you're prototyping, because failing early allows you to learn and adapt before you invest a lot of time and emotional energy on something that isn't going to work. Then he went on to share examples of how rapid prototyping has helped Apple and other technology companies in the real world.

Primed and ready for something substantial, he told us it was time to take the process we had just experienced and apply it to our lives. Hoping to task us with something that resonated deeply with students and staff, he called up one of the teachers and asked her to identify what she most wished for in a school. Then he brought up a student.

The two spoke eloquently and passionately and the overlap was unmistakeable.

The Teacher's Wish List is on the Left; The Student's Wish List is on the Right

From here, we identified a list of How Might We questions to address those concepts, and during lunch, Paccione asked us to put a post-it note on the HMW question we felt most passionate about.

"HMW Bring joy back to the classroom?" is on the left;
"HMW break the status quo without causing an uproar?" is on the right.

Two questions stood out from the rest, and we decided to combine them: How might we break the status quo to bring joy back to the classroom? With our mission on the table, students and teachers came alive. We conducted empathic interviews of one another, learning how much we had in common in our wishes and dreams, how much we both felt the pressure, the dullness, the desire to do bigger things, to spark curiosity and passion, to learn rather than test.

During one of our breaks, a student told me, "It feels so good to know teachers get it, that they understand, that they care about the same things we do, and it would be so awesome if we could really make a change."

Another student told me she wanted time to learn, to think, to explore, but she is so overloaded with what she has to do, she doesn't have time to learn what she wants to.

On one of the post-it-notes a student said we needed to "grade over time not in time," and countless others wrote about how much they yearned for the opportunity to get to know their peers and teachers as human beings, but because we have so many standards to cover, they constantly hear, "you need to know this for the A.P. test."

The entire room itched with the desire to harness what is already human nature: to question, to learn, to understand, to play and to explore. And over and over again, they dreamed of creating a learning space where all of us--teachers and students--come wildly alive.

A place where we all want to wake up and go.

Unfortunately, the bus arrived at 2pm to take this group of brave, insightful and passionate teenagers back to the high school, but the conversations have been preserved on paper and in images, and the spark has been ignited. We are just starting this process, but the potential is limitless and I am so excited to be part of this journey.

Cracking Open the Fear

By Laura Moore

Dena Little, Children's Librarian from the Upper Arlington Public Library

At the end of your next staff meeting, imagine your boss issuing a blanket assignment:

"Next week, before we discuss our new business updates, or any policy changes, all of you are going to stand up in front of your co-workers and assume four different character voices--gestures and all--and recite your favorite children's book."

I can imagine a snapshot of the crowd: eyes wide, brows raised, fingers massaging a sea of temples.

You've got to be kidding me, many of your coworkers say without words, although a few manage to open their mouths and argue about the absurdity. Your boss, however, remains vigilant, "It's good for you," he or she says and then leaves the room.

Despite the fact every last person has crossed the threshold from adolescence to adulthood--and stereotypes tell us that means they have, in theory, left their awkward years and insecurities behind--the crowd throbs with anxiety.

I'm going to look ridiculous...

What if I forget what I'm supposed to say...

People are going to laugh at me...

It doesn't matter how old we are, fear and insecurity are powerful entities in our lives, and we must all learn to face them both, to embrace them, to manage them, so we can find a way to triumph, to overcome.

And when we do, authenticity, connection, and growth often emerge.

In an effort to equip her students with what it takes to overcome fear and insecurity, Amanda Fountain has assumed the role of boss, and she's issued the aforementioned assignment. Hoping to help her classes realize the we way we beat the monsters in our lives--the way we control them--is to hold the reigns, to embrace our vulnerability, to wrestle with being uncomfortable so we can learn to manage the discomfort.

By the start of second quarter, she said her public speaking students have had the chance to develop skills through an introductory speech, a demonstration speech, a "review" speech and an informative speech, but Fountain has noticed that many kids still struggle with ease, with letting go and allowing their personality to leak out on stage. They're often stiff, overly concerned with how their peers perceive them, and have a resistance to use gestures to enhance the messages they're delivering. For that reason, Fountain assigns the vocal variety speech at the start of second quarter. In this assignment, students have to assume at least four different voices as they interpret a children's book for the class.

Over the years, after assigning this speech, Fountain has noticed students were often held back by the first choice they made: which book they wanted to use. To make life easier, many would pick a board book from home without worrying about whether or not it was fitting for the assignment, and others would "forget" their book altogether, losing valuable prep time in an effort to prolong the inevitable.

This past June, while teaching the 4-hour blocked summer school class, Fountain thought of a solution. When it came time for the vocal variety speech, she advised students to bring their library cards and then she walked them over to Northam Park, up to the main library and into the children's book section. There, high schoolers stood beside children as both groups poured over the stories, and Fountain stepped back as it happened, watching kids engage as they never had before. Later, when students stood up to present, she noticed the performances had much more texture.

Eager to carry the energy over to the school year, Fountain reached out to Tracie Steele, the librarian she worked with over the summer. Strapped by our 48 minute class periods and the implausibility of walking students over to the main library during that time, Fountain searched for a way to bring the books to her students. Tracie connected her with Dena Little, one of her colleagues, and Dena arrived  eagerly, with a table full of stories, a device to check them out, and a plethora of advice.

She talked to students about getting into character, about the importance of making yourself comfortable, of letting loose and being silly, of recognizing that everyone was going to be in the same boat, feeling the same discomfort.

But she not only told them, she made herself vulnerable. Instead of choosing stories that catered to her strengths, she exposed an area she admitted was a weak.

"My Irish accent isn't great," she told them, after using it for one of the characters, "but I'm trying it and that's all that matters."

She talked to them next about helping the audience.

"When the speaker is uncomfortable," she said, "it's awkward. The more crazy and outgoing you are, the more your audience will get into it."

She went on to show them how to use their bodies to reflect the character's own body language and she advised them to break the fourth wall, to address the audience directly if it seemed appropriate, if they needed to give context or wanted to ask listeners to connect to the events in the story.

When she finished, students rose from their seats and crowded around the table of books, flipping through pages, making their way through stories. And the entire time I watched, not a single one widened his or her eyes, raised his or her brows or rubbed his or her temples.

Instead, they were laughing, reminiscing, searching for the perfect set of characters, the perfect entry-point for their performance.

They were digging right in.

Facing challenges head on.

Accepting the call to adventure--just like the characters in their story--crossing the threshold and beginning a journey that will make them just a little bit more brave, a journey that will allow them to crack open their fear, and let their personality leak out onto the stage.

Before They Walk into the Boardroom

By Laura Moore

Students performing the Mintanan Greeting

I still remember the silence.

My team huddled around a black speaker phone set up in the center of a windowless conference room on the twelfth floor of a high-rise in Midtown Manhattan.

It was my first job out of college and I was working in account management for an advertising agency, sitting beside a slew of creative people who had been tasked with presenting a new campaign concept to our counterparts in Asia, Europe and Australia.

My boss gave a briefing, highlighting the goals of our client, before instructing participants to open PDFs and view concepts.

That's when the phone line went dead.

After what seemed like days, the group from Asia spoke first.

"I'm not sure," the person said slowly, "this will resonate with our audience."

Silence cloaked us for a long set of seconds before a discussion actually ensued, one that picked apart the core of the concept, the underlying assumption that the American ideal of winning--of outright declaring that your goal is to beat the competition--was not something other regions, particularly Asia, embraced.

Sure, the companies wanted to succeed, wanted to rise to the top of the heap, wanted to increase sales numbers and perceptions of excellence...

But not at the cost of suggesting others were somehow less.

As a 22 year old former collegiate athlete who spent her entire life up to that point striving to win, I remember sitting there, flabbergasted. I remember thinking, for the very first time, about the danger of seeing the world through a singular lens, and from that point forward, I made it my mission to better understand other points of view.

Fortunately, the students in Eva Frustaci's Higher Level International Baccalaureate (IB) Business Management class won't have to wait until the stakes are high before they grapple with reality.

This week, she and her student teacher, Kyle Davis, walked students through a cultural business simulation developed by GlobalEDGE. In this activity, students were split into two groups: the Americans and the Mintanans.

At the start of class, Mr. Davis took the Mintanan group to the Active Learning Lab and briefed them on their role, their business and the ideals at the heart of this fictitious culture. They learned the importance of family, the norms of business interactions, and the numbers required to secure a satisfactory profit in the deal. They also learned the Mintanan greeting involved crossing two hands, palms out, in front of your face, rather than extending your right hand in pursuit of a handshake. The American group stayed behind with Mrs. Frustaci, and she briefed them on their roles, their identity and their goal: to negotiate a deal at the lowest possible price.

Because the Mintanan culture respected hierarchal authority, students were told to embrace certain behaviors: they should expect that a top executive would attend any new business meeting, subordinates were not supposed to sit down until superiors gave them permission, and the president's thinking should never be questioned. Further, they were advised to act in the company's best interest at all times, and if the other company sent lower-level executives, the Mintanan junior executives should expect to carry the brunt of the negotiating.

In addition to these practices, the Mintanans believed in slower negotiations, opting to "haggle" for the best price, rather than settle right away. For that reason, regardless of how attractive an initial offer might be, their cultural norm is to engage in a back and forth exchange. Additionally, decisions about price should based on trustworthiness rather than numbers. The Mintanans were told to look at the way the other company behaved and from their observations, determine whether or not the group was respectable. If the company proved untrustworthy, then regardless of their offer, the Mintanans should not accept it.

The American group, on the other hand, was simply told to close the deal; therefore, their briefing primarily included information about prices and the goal they had to hit to save their company money. They were also told that the president of their organization had no interest in attending the meeting and demanded they go instead. Neither wanted to be there because of rumors they had heard about the authoritative culture in Mintana; however, to inspire efficacy, they were offered an excessive travel budget and promised a $40,000 bonus if they closed the deal. Unfortunately, the junior executives knew nothing about Mintanan culture, and because they arrived late the night before the meeting, their negotiations would be the first interaction they'd have in that country.

Once the two sides were briefed, the American group joined the Mintanan group in the Active Learning Lab. Instructed to engage in meetings and arrive at a deal, the class was split into four smaller groups that were now composed of both Mintanans and Americans. They held meetings for 15 minutes, and by the end, every single group arrived at a deal. Surprisingly, only one out of those four groups agreed on a contract that represented the best interest of the American company.

Following the exercise, students reflected on their experience. They acknowledged the significance of understanding other view points and norms when conducting international business, and they recognized the potential impact a lack of understanding might have. This ranged from greeting preferences to bigger things like hierarchy or behavioral norms that influence perceptions of trustworthiness and respect. They saw how all of those elements could come together to influence outcomes, and how things one group might not find to be a big deal, might be a deal-breaker to another.

While this exercise only filled 48 minutes of these student's lives, the impact has long-lasting potential. When these IB students go off to their internships, or step into roles at their very first jobs, hopefully they won't find themselves in a real moment of silence, a real moment of misunderstanding, a real moment where two groups exist on an entirely different page. As they venture out into the real world, hopefully they will be equipped to shift their lens, to question, to dig, and to understand before they walk into the boardroom.

 

Breaking Through the Cement

By Laura Moore

Shut your eyes and picture a high school classroom.

Slip yourself back into those bellbottoms, those acid-washed jeans, those heavy wool jackets stitched with Varsity Letters, and waltz into your first period class. Imagine the space, the smell, the chalkboard at the front of the room, remnants of gum lingering under desks, people lined up in rows inside cinderblock walls. Listen to the heaters hum and rattle in the background. And remember the effort of pulling out papers and books, shuffling bags, scooting around, straining your neck just to connect eyes with the person behind you.

This scene is all-to-familiar for many of us, particularly those who attended schools built 50 or more years ago. Yet despite these challenges, community members and teachers work hard to make spaces meaningful for students. The PTO offers grants for SMART Boards, teachers develop and propose new curriculum and establish connections with authors, businessmen, politicians, biologists, physicians and droves of other disciplines as their lessons call for it.

All of this is in an effort to create meaningful connections, dynamic moments of thinking, minutes spent in questioning and discovery, in analysis and synthesis, in explaining and extending and evaluating.

In finding circles and moving walls inside a rigid, rectangle of cement.

But what if those walls turned to glass and the chairs morphed into swivel seats? What if the desks became modular tables, transitions took 30 seconds, and groups had the chance to spread out, to dive in, to discover and discuss without talking over neighboring groups sitting three inches away? What if students had white boards to write on, comfortable cushions to sit on, soft lighting to mellow the mood, tabletops covered in paper and shelves to store their bags so they're not in the way?

Fortunately, we don't have to imagine it anymore.

Last March, Upper Arlington applied for and received a grant that allowed us to create a classroom environment the way it could be. Steelcase, a leading educational furniture company, awarded the grant, and teachers, administrators, students, community members and consultants from Battelle for Kids worked with LOTH to create an engaging space. Once the furniture and white boards were set, the Upper Arlington Education Foundation purchased glass walls and doors, and with the help of installers and custodians who worked hard throughout the summer and early fall, the Active Learning Lab (ALL) came to life on the second floor of Upper Arlington High School's learning center.

In August and early September, the space was a spillover spot for small groups and study hall students, but as our protocols are beginning to evolve, it is turning into a place where teachers can invite students to spread out and discover in ways typical classrooms do not allow. Because of the arrangement possibilities, inside the space, students can move freely, shifting their focus to different places in the room without dragging a desk, jostling their computer, or tripping over bags. They can actually connect with their peers without straining their necks, and they have table space to sort objects without loosing them between the cracks.

Teachers are slowly starting to use the space to enrich their curriculum. In late September, Jim Kenny brought his AP Calculus class to the ALL so students could engage in a lesson of discovery. He divided students into groups of 3 or 4 and gave them slips of paper showcasing derivatives and functions. The groups were supposed to match the two; however, Mr. Kenny didn't dictate how they should approach the problem. He didn't suggest methodologies or assign groups strategies. Instead, he allowed them problem-solve, to take risks, to make mistakes, and to find success.

As the period wore on, groups utilized different methods and because they were spread out throughout the room, each group had to find their own way. They couldn't look over their shoulder at what the group next to them was doing. They were forced to figure out a plan, to test that plan, and to find their own solutions. Some decided to pick up functions and draw their derivative first. Others engaged in various methods of sorting: grouping the similar ones or identifying the ones that were most different. And the final group picked them at random.

The following day, Mr. Kenny engaged his class in a discussion of strategies and students had the chance to critique methods, to evaluate other courses of action. When he asked how they chose their strategies, groups realized the leaders of the group dictated the direction, except for the group where a leader didn't emerge. Those three students arrived at their method through discussion and consensus. As students engaged in this reflection, they gained a conscious awareness of not only the problem they solved, but how they solved it, how else they could have approached it and what they would do differently if they approached it again.

As soon as this discussion ended, Mr. Kenny gave them another chance. Adding descriptions of the derivatives and functions into the mix, he asked students to engage once more in an exercise of matching; however this time, influenced by the reflection moments before, he said every group tried a different approach.

Mr. Kenny could have attempted this lesson in room 214, but by removing his students from a rectangle dotted with rows and allowing them to spread out in the ALL, he was able to facilitate an experience that truly allowed students to discover, to explore and to problem-solve in whichever way the group saw fit. He was able to guide them as they evaluated their strategies, and he was able to bring to light the way leadership and collaboration emerged or didn't emerge, the way leaders influenced decisions, and the importance of exploring and valuing different ways of learning and doing. If the groups had been elbow-to-elbow in room 214, attempting to spread out slips across uneven desk surfaces, they might have understood functions and derivatives by the end of the period, but they probably wouldn't have had the same chance to discover them on their own.

It would be a tremendous understatement to say how excited I am to watch other teachers shift mindsets in this space, to see how learning will evolve, how this room will allow educators to explore what's possible, and give students the chance to break through the cement.