Playing the Game

Games by Nick Youngson CC BY-SA 3.0 Alpha Stock Images

Are we as educators going to be humble enough to create spaces to allow young people to teach us what we need to do?
​- Chris Emdin, 2017 SXSWEdu Keynote, 31:32

I have had some mental rumblings going on in my head for a few months.  I had a really great conversation one night with Bruce Dixon, Missy Emler, and Bob Feuer.  We were sharing stories of young people for whom the education system does not work.  They either choose not to play the School Game, or they are not equipped to play the School Game.  

We all know and have seen or participated in some version of the School Game in our lives.  Sit quietly, face forward, parrot the answers that the teacher wants to hear, write the answers to homework that were already written in the chapter being studied, ask questions about whether the material will appear on the test at the end of the unit or at the end of the year.  Prepare, typically in a cram session, and then as soon as the test ends, release it all into the æther. Move into the next round of the same game, earn typically Bs, maybe a C and an A here and there to balance things out.

Tough to Love Kids are Tough to Love

Some students, as mentioned in the post Gradual Graduation, do not play the Game.  Another former student of mine also fit this bill.  AJ was focused when he wanted to be.  Most of his other teachers saw him as a “problem student”.  And I understand why they labeled him like that, he was a tough to love kid.  AJ was often wandering the classroom or hallways.  He was tough to get focused on work he didn’t find interesting.  He had a lot to say, a LOT.

I found that taking time to let him speak until he had nothing left to say usually got him to a place where he could work.  AJ would actively participate in science labs that were inquiry-based and had no set answer, only data and analysis.  He was even more intense in work that was challenge based.  Running low on patience, but not wanting him wandering out of the room, I asked him to make a bridge of Popsicle sticks to go from my desk to a lab bench that would support the weight of a remote control truck to cross it.  I knew I had tons of glue, Popsicle sticks, and an R/C truck, so I was good.  I just hoped it worked.

AJ was golden for a long time.  He spent time researching in other classes and would bring me his research on the different types of bridges.  He began building his bridge using lots of materials very quickly.  My lack of planning a solid task for him led to its eventual demise, but the positive experience in letting him lead a bit of learning kept us trying again.

In another surprise visit to my classroom, AJ expressed his frustration with his ELA class.  I let his teachers know he was with me, and then I asked him what he was supposed to be doing in class.  He shared that it was “some stupid $&#^@% writing task.”  He let me know in no uncertain terms he was sick of writing and would not complete the task in my room or otherwise.  I gave him a laptop, helped him make a Gmail account and introduced him to Google Drive.  I asked him to write a story about whatever he wanted and asked him to share it with me for feedback.  He exclaimed, “I’ve always wanted to write my memoirs!  I got you, Glover.”

Memoirs?  Bro, you’re in 7th grade.  Whatever, he was writing. I let him be.  

He wrote more in 3 weeks of hanging in my room than he had in 6 months in his classroom.  But without someone to wait through his cursing (how he expressed himself, not any kind of verbal attack on anyone personally), and his frustrations, I worried about his future.  He just needed someone to not take offense to his communication style.  He would learn better ways to present himself, but not until someone first listened to him so they could teach him.  No one listened.  By the time he was 18, school no longer cared about how to reach him.  He didn’t play the game.  He dropped out.

The Canary in the Coalmine

I received a call one evening from another former student, Josh (fake name), who is now in college.  Josh has been sharing his college experience with me as he worked through his first semester.  He was a good student; he attended a good high school.  By all accounts and measures, he is college ready.  Josh and I had been talking about what a research question might look like for one of his classes.  He is a curious kid, but posing a question of his own to dig into was a tough process for him.  

A few weeks later, I was resting on the couch, watching Netflix and getting ready to hit the sack a bit early.  My day and brain were pretty much done.  Then my phone began to receive text after text after text.  I grabbed my phone to figure what the emergency might be, and it was Josh, in line to see his instructor and turn in his research question.  He was 30 seconds away and he had nothing!

I reminded him of the questions we discussed before, but at this point, the kid needs to get it together.  But he wasn’t taught to ask questions for research.  He wasn’t taught to inquire.  He was taught to listen.  To read and review.  To regurgitate.  And he did that well.  Now he needed help to question and express his own curiosity.  I realized Josh and I needed a deeper conversation to tackle this problem.  He fine tuned his research question, and we talked about how to ask better questions in the future.  He shared a well-researched paper last week.  He’ll be okay.

AJ and my Gradual Graduator were the canaries in the coalmine.  They are easy to see.  They don’t play the game.  They have no interest in the game.  They lost the game.  But does anyone else wonder about the other students, like Josh, that are still in this system, playing the game, and potentially not learning much of anything?  Unable to think for themselves?  Unable to access their own, inherently human, curiosity?  How many other students enter college, supposedly ready, but are found lacking?  Are we holding ourselves accountable?  Do we even know what we want our students to be when they graduate?  Or are we just betting that the good test takers will be okay?

I'm answering these questions for myself and in my role as an educator.  Are you?  And when you think about these questions, don't blame the young people, friends.  We create the conditions for learning for all students.  We need to believe they are all capable, competent learners.  We need to provide opportunities for all learners to access knowledge.  And only we can decide it's time to stop using compliance and rules and games to limit opportunities for our young learners.