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Today was the first day of school, but I can’t get this Summer’s learning out of my mind. I have been focused on one day in particular - August 1, 2019 (RABBIT, RABBIT my Canadian friends). On this day, I worked with a small group of innovators from my district to talk about a new vision for school. Our group has been brainstorming, researching, reflecting, and discussing our thoughts on what school could be. We have crafted a draft for an Instructional Vision that is unlike anything I have seen in public schools. On this Summer Day, as happens most days when I get the opportunity to work with them, it was the young people that are part of our School ReDesign Team that owned the day. We met that morning with design teams from across NYC. We discussed many topics, but when asked to share why our team is doing the work of rethinking school, a rising High School senior from our team dropped some knowledge everyone needed to hear. “We ask ourselves the question, ‘If coming to school was voluntary, would you show up?’ And you know what, honestly, I probably wouldn’t. I would only come to school part time. I don’t know why I’m learning most of what I am learning in school. Did you know that this past year, I finally figured out that the comma goes before the but in a compound sentence? If my writing had been considered over all these years I’ve been in school, you think someone would have caught that before now, like in Elementary school! What we do in school isn’t working. We need to do it differently.” A parent from another district asked, “Well, what would you do instead of school?” “I would do this [pointing around the room]. Real work that has meaning. Looking at real data about our schools and talking about how to make them better. And thinking creatively about what classes and schools can be like. Just because it’s always been done 'that way' doesn’t mean we have to keep doing it 'that way'. Why can’t I be part of the discussion about CEP Goals (yes, friends, he really said that). I get inspired by this kind of work. I want to be a teacher and change school.”  :::Me whispering to him::: “You’re hired!”
He joined a panel of students from grades 6 to 12 to deepen this discussion, and boy did they. Here are a few more nuggets of knowledge from students in our schools:
Today was the first day of school, and I couldn’t stop thinking about my Summer student ReDesign Team members and their message - We Can Lead Our Learning. This profession gives all participants - teachers, students, school leaders, para-educators, parents - a chance for a fresh start every year. I miss that newness, that energized (and sometimes anxious) feeling that comes with new students and a new school year. I visited many of the schools in my district today. I needed to get some of that Day 1 hype, even if it was only from the sidelines. In my visits today, I saw students excited and scared for their first day - some couldn’t wait to leave Mom and run to greet their friends while others cried and wouldn’t let go. I saw older students with bright smiles having brighter discussions sharing their vision for what school could be. And our students have grand visions. Are we listening to what they have to say?
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 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.
When I first started teaching, I was given advice like, "Don't smile before November," and "Don't let them into your personal life," and other lines that are essentially shared to ensure that you keep your emotional distance from the young people we serve. Sad thing is, I followed this advice for a few years before I figured out that for best learning conditions you need bring your authentic self to the work.
I saw this Tweet today...
I have learned not to turn myself down. And, friends, I'm pretty effing loud. So is my music. I have been able to make some real, genuine connections with young people. It changed me as a teacher, helped me grow as leader, and made me a better person. I miss working directly with young people. My new role in my district has me most often working with school staff and district instructional leads. On some occasions, I am blessed with moments to work directly with students. One little guy in particular used to light up my darkest weeks. I first met Doc when I served as a substitute Principal for a week last year. He was in 3rd grade, and he was quite the handful. Doc had difficulty working through angry emotions, and he often reacted loudly and quickly when he could not maintain his calm. The first day I met him, Doc had lost his temper and run out of class. When I found him, he was 10 feet up a chain link fence in the back of the school yard. He came down, calmed down, and we worked through what he needed that day. And I met him every day after with a smile, a willingness to listen, and bit of my humor. We became closely connected over the week I spent at his building, and I continued to check in on him throughout the rest of the year. We became pen pals, delivering short letters through his school's mailboxes. When I went to visit, I was greeted with a huge smile (most of the time), and it always replenished my spirit. Wednesday this week was the First Day of School for students in New York City. I was bouncing on the way to work so excited to see my pen pal after a long Summer, kinda hoping that he would have already written me a letter. I reached out to his Principal to advise that I was coming by for general check-in on Day 1 and to say hello to Doc. "I'm sorry, Bryan. I just got notice yesterday that he is transferring to a school in the Bronx." Devastated. I knew it might be the best thing for him as he was having trouble adjusting to life in the school in my district. But it didn't stop me from feeling a seriously depressed moment. That really caught me by surprise. The downside to authentic connections with young people we serve is a profound sense of loss when they are no longer connected to us. It hurts. This also means it was a strong connection and a relationship that mattered. I wouldn't give that up for anything. Relationships do matter folx. They matter from Day 1. Doc and I learned a lot from each other. It is important to remember how much we can matter to someone. Doc was growing, changing, and improving over the last year as I mentored him. I am proud of the progress he made and sad that I won't be directly working with him anymore. I am confident, though, that he will take some of that connection and learning with him to his new home and school and keep growing. In my search for a silver lining, I also realized that I have time for a new mentee. I'm pretty excited to see who might need a smile, an adult willing to listen, and a little bit of humor. Do you bring your authentic self to classroom? Graduating High School
When thinking back on high school, many people reflect fondly on their youthful adventures. I did not like high school. I would skip 30 out of 45 days in a 9 week semester. I did not like my classes. They bored me to tears. I had no connection to any adult at the school. I felt disconnected from many friends. I even had teachers and students calling me by a nickname, “Larry”. My name is not Larry. Or Lawrence. Or anything close to Larry. These things were funny to me. Not to the school. I was the perfect case study for a kid ready to drop out. As I neared the end of my penultimate year of High School, I realized that as much as I hated being there, my best bet was not to fail classes and be forced to repeat them. My best bet was not to drop out. I was going to claw my way back to passing grades and graduate early. I felt a need to leave that space so intensely, it drove me to fix all the mess I had made for myself. I took night classes. My evening History class was taught by the same teacher who I tortured with my ridiculousness and disdain during regular school hours in my Sophomore year of studies. Wasn’t much help for me there, and I guess I deserved as much. I was kind of a prick to him. I took extra classes while I was there. I went to Summer School, taking a course I needed to make up, and since I was there also taking my senior year second half of English Language Arts. This course, thankfully, was staffed by the amazing Ms. Magnolia Allen who taught me to love reading again. I got my credits earned. 44 was the magic number. I got it done! I did it early. My High School was okay with my graduating early. I left the school in January of my Senior year, and never looked back. I took full time work with a medical supply company and waited to get my cap and gown for graduation. My family still wanted me to walk across the stage. I personally could not have cared less. In May of that year, I received the delivery of my cap and gown. They were maroon. Maroon?!? Our school colors were blue and grey. I went back to find out what was going on. I met with my Guidance Counselor who informed me that our school colors were, in fact, blue and grey with a touch of maroon. The maroon cap and gown was worn by students who were on the honor roll and had higher than a 4.0 GPA. The GPA upper limit, another magical number, that many students soar past in their efforts to achieve as highly as possible in preparation for applying to colleges. I breached the limit. Who would have known? Certainly not me. I had no conversations about future possibilities. That’s okay though. I had a good job and was already moved out and on my own. School didn’t work for me. I could play the game, and I played it well enough to graduate with honors and hardly showing up my Junior year. This is one of the driving reasons I made my way, in the very roundabout, indirect fashion that most of my life’s moves are made, into a career as an educator. Summer School Graduation This week, I attended the Summer School Graduation Ceremony as a representative from my District. I have grown to love graduation ceremonies. They were always emotional moments when I took part in 8th grade graduation at my former middle school site where I taught Science for most of my career. While I didn’t have an active role in this ceremony, I do love to see the brightness in the faces of young people as they walk across the stage. Two days before June graduation, one of my former students and mentee was told by his High School that they discovered a missing half credit from a failed semester of a course from 2 years prior and a missing half credit of Physical Education. He would not meet the magic number of 44 credits. He had to take Summer courses. He had already been to prom and taken care of all his senior dues. Because of this last minute discovery, he would not be allowed to walk across the stage with his friends to say goodbye to his school, his teachers, and begin the next journey in his life. Needless to say, he was upset. He felt betrayed by the system. I felt hurt and angry for him. School didn’t work for him. He didn’t play the school game well, and he paid the price for his ungamliness. (Yep, still making up new words.) Throughout his time in High School, we met up for various days of learning together. For two years, we attended the World Maker Faire. This young man got a crew of his friends together in their Senior year of High School to meet with me on weekends to learn about robotics and physical computing. These hangouts moved to discussions of fund-raising so we could buy parts to build new things. Then the fundraising became a business idea and these young men began designing a business of their own. About a month later, I learn he has found a sound studio and recorded two songs with friends, and they were really good! No one seemed concerned as to whether or not he had actually LEARNED anything. It was all about the number. No exception made for this exceptional young man. I took my seat on the stage and began to peruse the Summer Graduation Program. I was overjoyed to see that he had pushed through his anger and was listed as a Summer Graduate. I volunteered to be the District representative at this event just in case I might be able to see him walk across the stage. His name listed in the program had already given me a prideful moment, but I hoped I would still see him walk. He did not come to his graduation ceremony. I’m certain he is still angry with the system that let him down. I am happy and proud that he pushed through this set back and completed High School. I know he is a passionate learner and can/will do great things. He has big dreams. But this graduation debacle deflated him. I Have Questions Why have we turned graduation, a rite of passage to college and adulthood, into a checkbox system of arbitrary numbers that really don’t carry much meaning? Why don’t we care more about the passions of the young people we serve, and help these young people to realize their dreams as they see them? Why are there so many other young people like my former student, many without mentors, being disserved by a system that is supposed to be inspiring them to do great things? Why aren’t we rethinking school to make it a place where all students want to attend and actively seek to learn more? If attendance was optional, would your students show up? Would your teachers? We can do better. Why aren’t we? Day 22 was a day that started and ended with big smiles. In the morning, I made my way back to the school building where I had served as acting Principal for a week. I wasn't there for a meeting. I wasn't going to observe teachers. I only wanted to see the young people that took up so much of my time. I have a special place in my heart for the tough cookies. Yes, they take a large portion of a day, but they are still developing their brains and learning to cope with the curve balls life throws their way. Inside of them are human beings that want a connection as much as anyone else. As regular readers know, I am still connected with many former students that were the toughest of the bunch. On this day, one young man completed my day. I found out his teacher was absent. To avoid any incidents int he classroom, Doc was placed in a Kindergarten classroom. As I stood on the side of the room sharing with his teachers why I was visiting, I watched Doc walking from K-kid to K-kid pointing to their art, asking them how they created such great pictures, complimenting their work, and pushing them to make it better. He did this with calm kindness, and the younger students were eating it up. I was so proud. As he recognized me, his face lit up, he ran across the room with a big smile to shake my hand and say hello. I told him how proud and happy he made me that day. I explained how important it was for him to be serving as a mentor for younger students. And then I told him what an amazing person he was and that the K-kids needed his help, so get back in work with them and make their day better. I called his father to share the story. I introduced myself, "Hi, Mr. Doc. My name is Bryan Glover, and I am part of the Superintendent's Team in District 1. I was working at our son's school today, and I need to share a story with you." When I finished telling the story, dad let out a sigh of relief. He said he didn't get phone calls like this about his son. I asked dad to please give his son a hug and huge pat on the back for being an amazing human being. I could hear the smile and feel the warmth of his pride through the phone. Our brains are tuned into the negative, the bad, the things that bring us down. It's a survival mechanism to recognize and remember things that stress us so we can avoid that stress in the future. I am always asking myself to find the happy moments to focus my attention and memory. Those moments matter, and they are so often overwritten by the bad. Sometimes, other people need you to help them find their happy moments. Every time, it is great to share a moment of pride and joy, especially with a parent of a child who typically puts our brains memory systems into survival mode. How can we try to be more mindful of these moments so they embed as memories over the tough moments that stress our days? How can we see students that struggle to cope with life as students with value and skills to share? As learners and contributors to our classrooms and lives? How can we be sure to take more time to talk to parents about the moments when their child showed kindness, a proud moment, resilience in the face of a challenge? Doc and his dad have brightened my week. I have memories that give me a smile upon reflection that I am using during tougher moments in the day. I like this feeling. I want more of these lightening, brightening moments.  I had an amazing day with young people at the District 1 Make-A-Thon at PS 15 Roberto Clemente School yesterday. Families from the host school and others within our District were shown a student made video about pinball machines. They were also given a brief description of the Design Process, from Planning to Presentation. And then they were set loose. I watched these young Maker families create plans for their design of an arcade machine. Some chose common machines like pinball and skeeball. Others tried to combine ideas like skeeball with a special basketball hoop. Some created their own new game. The young designers took their plans to the supply table and found cardboard, used plastic water bottles, duct tape of various colors and designs, and other miscellany to bring their ideas to life. I couldn't believe my eyes! In three hours, we had a cardboard arcade. It was pretty magical. I have shared some of the magic in a slideshow below. Experiences like this always have me wondering.
During my days of learning to ask more questions, I have found myself wanting to celebrate some small, but important, moments. As a believer in the power of student-driven inquiry, I could not have been happier to share a video conference with students and staff from schools in Scotland. We have been in regular contact about establishing MakerSpaces in schools and what that looks like when put into action. The students from Scotland met myself and the amazing teacher, Ms.Sacks, on a Zoom video conference to talk about how to create a MakerSpace in their primary school. Their questions were thoughtful and driven, and they made me smile knowing that young people have owned the process of designing a new type of learning environment for their school. Squint in the picture below, and you might catch a glimpse of me.  I love talking with my Scottish friends about making school a better place to learn. But it is not just new learners that inquiries that guide my day and my life. I also had the honor of being invited to try the food baked by a former student of mine. She entered baking school (read some of her story HERE) and is nearing completion of her program. Part of this work includes inviting friends and family to taste your work. Talk about authentic audience... Ami made an amazing dish called a Chocolate Mole Tamale. This thing had a beautiful plate presentation, and was not a typically hyper-sweetened dessert. It was paired with a subtly sweet ice cream and some candied fruit and nuts that when taken together were an explosion of flavor. I tasted chocolate from the subway to my door home. It was wonderful. And it was her. She brought her personal flare and culture to a plate. I couldn't have been more proud. I was lucky enough to share this experience with her mother who was nothing but smiles the whole time. Maybe my most memorable moment this week, though, was the most unexpected moment. The type of moment you can't count on or plan for. The one that makes you question your nerve and tenacity. Can I make sure the work continues through this ridiculously tragic moment? Do I embrace embarrassment or hide until the day has ended? Can I hide? If I could would I really want to? How will my actions show everyone who sees me a demonstration of what I believe to be true about myself and the work that I do for young people? It was funny. It was embarrassing. It was my life for most of a day. I owned it. I kept working. And I told EVERYONE around what happened. We don't get to choose these moments, we only get to choose how we greet them wen they arrive. I greeted the moment with a smile and a lot of sharing. When you have a day that you must Incredible Hulk you way through moments AND CLOTHES, own the ridiculousness. I kinda wish I had googly eyes to put on the back once I got home to take the pics and realize the degree to which I had torn my trousers. Thankfully, it is Winter, and I had a sweater for my waist. With this pic, I leave you. On to Day 4, my friends...  I promised myself to model learning as a leader, and today is day 1 of this 30 day adventure. I hope to focus my learning in 2 distinct areas: (1) improve my questioning when coaching and giving feedback and (2) communicating using American Sign Language (ASL).
While today is not officially day 1 for ASL, it is the first in a 30 day, non-stop practicing series. I am following lessons I find on the American Sign Language University website. I'm starting with Lesson 1 and proceeding one at time while I attempt to integrate the signs into my everyday life. I find it easiest to share my newly acquired signs through a Share-out Activity with a colleague who kindly allows me to fumble through this new language. I am also finding myself thinking more often about what signs I might use to communicate the random thoughts that enter my brain as I'm walking to and from work and home. Visualizing has been really helping me. I'd swear I read somewhere that visualizing can, in fact, help with new movements you are attempting to learn. I haven't taken pictures of videos of myself signing yet. I hope to take the time to do that soon. I am spending time at a school site this week to lead the building. What a perfect opportunity to work on questioning more and answering less! Coming up with answers is a tough habit to break. I'm a solution guy. I look for answers. Usually to questions that I am asking. But this desire to find answers is tough to fight. A few times today, I found myself internally reminding myself that I do not have to have the answer. It is more important to build capacity in the person I am working with to think about and find their own answers. Young people really made my day today, and it happened because I gave them the opportunity to figure out their own answers, and they answered in pretty amazing ways. They are so much more capable of solving problems and leading their learning than we give them credit for on most days. A young man in the middle school appeared to be restless and not working on an assignment, so I walked over to ask him what he was learning. His response was, "I don't know." I just kept asking or more information about his work and progress, and then he took me on a journey through his thought process that he said was "not exactly the same topic, but it's what I want to know." He shared some assumptions and inferences that answered the inquiry questions he designed to "take his readers on a chronological path" through his paper. I asked how he would find evidence to support his answers, and told me it would take more time to search for his answers in his text and through some articles, but that he would spend the time to look. Who would I be to deny his inquiry and desire to work through this path? I smiled, encouraged, and then got out of his way. I was also happily taken on a learning journey (a learney, if you will) by a young man in elementary school. His class had taken a field trip, but eh did not attend the trip. He found himself in a class that was a grade level higher than his class. By the end of the day, he was distracting students trying to learn Mathematics in his host room. He found his way to me to settle for the last 20 minutes of the day. He told me I could call him Little E. I told him to call me G, and we shared a special handshake. I asked him what liked to learn the most. He told me, "Math is my favorite subject," but multiplication was just too hard for him to learn. He told me he could add pretty well. So we talked about money, and how much money did a group of 3 friends have if they have $5.00 each. We counted together. We counted by 5s. I showed Little E the equation 3 x 5 = 15, and then it was non-stop multiplication practice for the rest of the day. "Give me a harder problem!" It was a joy to end my day with him jumping from imaginary place to imaginary place, pretending to be each person and counting their money as he worked through the problem in his head, step-by-step, jump-by-jump, and then gave me the total and wrote down the equation. I think the best line I heard today that has me thinking pretty deeply right now is, "No, let me do it." Thank you for that little gem, Little E. I'll see you in the AM. I have been going back and forth in my mind for weeks about whether to write about the experience that will be shared in this post. It was a hyper-personal moment. It was extraordinarily frightening. It filled my heart with a happy I haven't felt in a long time. And I think this is a moment to be shared, as it might be helpful to others. I finally came out to my students as gay.
After we had our bowls of deliciousness in hand, I just did a mental countdown, and jumped in, head-first. "[MH], you remember when we went to the Maker Faire and on the train you guys tried to get me to hit on that random female passenger, and I kinda freaked out and froze? We need to have a real talk about that." I started fumbling through a bad metaphor using Modern Family, saying I'm more like a Cam/Mitchell dad to him than a Jay, but the look on his face was one of confusion. So I just said it, "I'm gay. Did you know that or suspect that?" Holy &$%#! I said it! In that moment, my face was burning, my heart thumping, my stomach churning. I had no idea what to expect from him. Would he hate me? Would he get up and just walk out? Would he not care? Why did I do this? For those who don't have to go through this feeling, it's not a fun one. You never know how accepted you will be. I did this years ago with my friends and my family. And here I was, 42 years old, and feeling as vulnerable, nervous, anxious, and nauseous as I was when I was a much younger man. This is never easy. And after all these thoughts and feelings rushed over, feeling like an eternity of silence had passed, knowing that it was only a split-second, I had to get a response. "Please don't be one of those guys that hates me for being gay." "Not at all, Glover. I had no idea, but it doesn't change anything. You know, at first I wondered if you were joking, but I saw how red your face was, and I knew you were serious. So many things make sense now..." And so the conversation began. We talked for a long time. I shared stories of how hard it was to grow up being gay and having to hide who I was. I shared other coming out stories from my life. We talked about my teaching and being closeted. I shared my feelings from an older post about coming to terms with keeping that part of me hidden from students. He was not only accepting, but very reflective. "Glover, today was the right time to share it. We [my students] weren't ready to hear it back then. And you obviously weren't ready to share. This was the right time - for you and for me." I worried about the other guys from #MyCrew and how they might react. These guys were all close with me and often join [MH] and I on various adventures around the city, from Maker Faire to Saturday meetups for learning Arduino and Raspberry Pi building and coding. But how would they take the news? I traveled home from Comic Con riding the high of an amazing conversation with [MH]. While on the train, one of #MyCrew tried calling me, but I couldn't get the call on the train. I told him I would text him later, but I didn't know what to expect. I knew that [MH] told them all. Now the fear was back, again. How would they all react? I walked home quickly, hoping to get through the waiting texts that I kept feeling buzz my pocket like ripping off a bandage. Read the good and the bad, figure out how to reconnect, as needed. But their words caught me off guard:
I am in awe of their kindness and how much these young men have grown since I first met and taught them. I haven't had a happy moment like the moment I read their messages. Coming out is one of the scariest moments of my life, then and now, and these young men accepted me with grace and love. I could not ask for anything more.
Saturday morning, dragging myself out of bed around 5 a.m. so I can be in East Harlem by 8:30 was no easy task. But then add to that the need to get three 16-17 year-olds out of bed and at our meeting place on time... I should have just slept in. To his credit, [BN] made it on time. We got some coffee, waited for the other two to arrive, and we were finally on our way to the World Maker Faire in Queens by 9:30 a.m. This will be my second time visiting with some of my crew. I taught these guys when they were like 10 and 11 years old. I embrace every opportunity to remain connected to my former students. I had a particularly strong connection with this cohort of students, specifically these young men and few others from their class. Continuing our learning journey together is one of the highlights of my days. Add to that a day of Making and Idea Brainstorming, and I was in heaven!
And there was nothing wrong with them playing around, reinforcing their relationships with each other. Even though I haven't been their Teacher for about 4 years, I had to learn to stop being a teacher in that moment. I had to learn to be with them, not try to make them subdued, quieter, less fun. I let go, and really just took in the experience of being with these young men at Maker Faire, one of whom was having his first Maker experience. But Making wasn't the only thing he was experiencing, and it became another moment of learning for me. As we walked through the booths, [MH] said, "Yo, [JD], nobody here looks like you." "I know," [JD] said. I stopped staring at circuit boards and took a moment to look around. A few things hit me at that moment: 1. My being a white male usually means I don't look around and notice things like that, even when I'm with young men of color. 2. Why were there so few young people of color? 3. How do these guys feel now? How can I try and understand their perspective? But my learning wouldn't stop there. I watched as one of the guys took a seat in an empty seat on the side of a booth, just resting. The booth employee walked over and said, "Excuse me, sir, that seat is only for people filling out this form. You can stay there if you want to fill one out." The comments he made led with a you-don't-belong-here but I guess you can stay if you'll do X. Why could he not say something like, "Hi, my name is Blah Blah, if you take a moment to fill out our form, I'd like to share some information about our booth with you. It's okay if you're not interested, but would you mind giving up the seat if someone comes by to give their information?" How hard is that? I spoke with my guys later and made the point of asking questons for all of us to think about like... How do we get the message about events like this to schools and communities that serve students that look like you? What else can you do? How can I help you spread the message? Overall, we had a good day together. But there were some big questions that came up. I'm still reflecting and thinking about what I saw that day. Thankfully, these guys are thinking about it, too. They want to start their own "club" with a few more friends that are interested in learning about Making, Creating, Coding, and Design. I have agreed to be their adult mentor. I want to arm them with a design-thinking mindset, intense curiosity, and a drive to look at problems and find solutions. Now we need to find our space. But they are ready. I am ready to join them, learn with them. The work for our crew continues...  It's been a month, exactly, since I have had a chance to write. That's not entirely true. It's been a month since I made the time to write. It's been a weird realization, getting anxious when I haven't shared thoughts online about learning and education or from some random series of events in my life. I am, however, glad the anxiety is there because I do not want to stop writing. I allowed life to get in the way a bit. Here are a few fun and interesting things I have done recently:
No surprise though, learning has been on my mind. I was escorting a young lady in middle school to take a high school exam today. She is quirky, but so great to talk with. On our way to the test site, I was asking her about her high school plans. She plans on being a Marine Biologist, and by taking her high school classes early and testing out of them, it will allow time to take Marine Bio courses a year earlier, and have time for AP classes, too. My, my, she is driven. I asked her, "Why Marine Biology?" NK's Story When I was younger, I was SCUBA trained and certified. On a trip with my family, we boarded a boat that took us miles out to sea. We stopped over water that was 12 meters deep, but it was as clear blue as the sky. I slid into the water, and about 6 feet from me was a whale shark. It was so much bigger than I thought it would be! I swam next to it, and touched it, but it's so huge that I didn't even register to it. As I swam beside it, I just, disappeared. I knew, in that moment, Marine Biology was what I was going to make my life's work. "Wow, [NK], that sounds amazing." So many pictures were flying through my head, so many possibilities for new adventures. I began thinking about getting SCUBA certified myself. NK was, of course, full of information to guide me toward learning this new skill. She also was insistent that the experience would change me. How do you say no to that? How can we say no to kids being able to drive their own learning? How can we not believe that kids can drive our learning? Help them explore passions and interests - both their own, and those they don't know they don't know. Are you learning anything new right now? I know that I am working my fingers to death trying to learn to play the banjolele. I'm able to play 3 chords now, and I can kinda switch between them. Now somehow, I have to figure out when I can fit in SCUBA. Apparently, it is going to be worth it, or so an expert told me.   While I am still a devoted educator, I no longer serve students as a teacher. This year has been a really tough transition for me. I love working with young people. As expected, I was able to share appreciation of teachers with whom I work, but I do not get any of that teacher love myself, not anymore. I ended my week and headed out for an IPA with my buddy, Dwight, and read the cards his students made for him. They were funny and touching. The clear message from those cards was that Dwight is appreciated and loved by his students. Such a great thing to see, but so bittersweet. I don't get cards and thank you letters. Don't get me wrong, the work I do is very rewarding, but I miss the love of my students. I called my former student MH at the end of Friday to confirm our Saturday plans for us to visit a college campus downtown. We chatted for a few minutes, then he asked me to hold on a second, and he passed his phone to someone. "Uh, hello? Who's this?" "Hey, Mr. Glover. It's [JD]. How you doing" "Holy crap, it's great to hear your voice [JD]! What's up?" "Listen, Glover, I was hoping to come hang out with you and [MH]." "You want to visit the college? I already have [MH] and [BN] going with, it's gonna get crowded..." "No, G, I mean I want to hang out with you when you and [MH] go to make stuff. I want to learn how to make circuits and stuff." "Of course you can come! I'd love to work with you, too." And the smile begins to broaden on my face. "OK, G, it was good to talk to you. Hold on a sec..." "Yo, Glover, what's good?" "Uh, who's this?" "It's [RG], dude. Can I come, too?" "You want to learn to build electrical circuits and use Arduino?" "Yeah. I always wanted to learn about that stuff. Can I please go with you?" "Of course. I'm happy to have you all. Can you pass me back to [MH]. Hey, [MH], dude, we have a LOT of planning to do with our group growing like this! I'm really excited, though, and I'm glad you told them." I have four young men from East Harlem asking to give up their free time to spend it learning something new, with me, just for the sake of learning and hanging out. What better way of being appreciated? That's more than enough of the love I was missing. Now I just have to find a place where we can work. Open to ideas for multi-purpose rooms and learning spaces - any space where we can brainstorm, research, and build together.   The week of May 8, 2017 is Teacher Appreciation Week. In education, this is a pretty important week for teachers hoping to hear that they are doing good work for students and communities. It always made my day when a kid would stop by and share how much they appreciated me as a teacher. It was also nice to hear from school leaders that they thought I was doing a good job. This year, I'm thinking less about myself as an educator and more about the educators that helped mold me when I was younger. In elementary school, I was a handful. That is not likely to be the term that most adults in my life would use to describe me - probably more the four-letter variety, represented by symbols in polite writing. Even though I was quite a little &%$#, there was a teacher that sticks out in my mind, even today. Mrs. H was advanced in years and wisdom. In her 4th grade classroom, I had access to my first computer (this was in 1985, folks, computers were not common). I was able to learn about programming through trial and error, eventually writing a DOS-based (I think) program that was a choose-your-own-adventure story modeled after my love of the Zork book series. It was in this class that I submitted an experiment for my first science fair. I explored content, shared ideas with friends in class, and have fond memories of my time there. One lesson I learned that still sticks with me today is something I learned with another student, not something that was directed by the teacher. As we sat next to each other, sharing a computer, my classmate Kenneth saw me struggling to type quickly. He showed me how fast he was able to type, and I asked him how he learned to type so quickly. His trick was that he divided the keyboard at the #7 key. Everything tot he left of the 7, he used his left hand to find the key, and he used the right hand for the right side. No ASDF-JKL; it was simply the 7. I actually became quite adept at this typing strategy. I used it on typewriters for all of my papers. By the time I reached high school, this mode of typing had become ingrained in me. During a Business class, the teacher repeatedly tried to get me to switch to ASDF-JKL;, but finally gave in when she watched me accurately type close to 90 words per minute using my method. Today, I can still type quickly, with few mistakes, and can even type without looking. Sure, not as quickly as traditionally trained typers, but I hold my own. I shared my memories of my learning experiences with my mother recently. Mom recalled a teacher in my elementary years - an older woman whose name she could not remember - that had to call her constantly about my behavior. The teacher was frequently at her wits end with me, and was at a loss for what to do. Sure enough, that was Mrs. H. Oh poor Mrs. H. I don't remember being so badly behaved. But I know me. I know I could be a complete pain in the #$$ and a total knucklehead. Still, she persisted through it and found ways to reach me and help me learn. Without Mrs. H being accepting of me regardless of my behavior, without her allowing more student-driven, collaborative work, I would not have these learnings and memories that I hold so dear in my mind. In my college years, I found myself lost, not sure where to focus my studies. I was a Theater major, but knew I wanted something different. I did some soul searching, and it was remembering my love of science in Mrs. H's classroom that prompted me to change my major and eventually lead me to a Bachelor's in Microbiology, graduating cum laude. This led me to a Master's in Teaching Biology, which led me to where I am today, writing this blog on my autobiographical website that tracks my Maker projects, love of science, and love of education. As this week draws to an end, take a minute to reflect on your younger years and remind yourself of a teacher that meant something to you. Did they teach you something that stayed with you for years? Were you treated with kindness even though you didn't always give it back? Who helped make you the person you are today? Can you find this teacher, and give her a thank you?   This week I have been thinking a lot about the purpose of school and what things could really be like if there were no constraints. That level of thought can be tough. As a leader, I naturally lean toward thoughts of, "But what about the teacher that doesn't jump on board," or "What about parents that might fight the changes?" It's hard to stop thinking about people pushing back when you are trying to imagine a best case scenario. As I rethink what school could be for learners, I begin thinking about students that will be served by the environment I help to foster. For me, that environment needs to be driven by the learner, not the teacher. Kids are amazingly capable of driving their own content. Former student, MH, once spent time with me on a weekend to go to Maker Faire NYC and then another weekend at a library for a lesson on building a circuit (inspired by the time at Maker Faire). Two days later, he is sharing pictures of a "Air Conditioner" that he made from a computer fan, wires, battery, coffee can, and ice. I didn't give him the plans or teach him to make it. He chose to find something he needed for his room, and used some of what we explored together to create this device. Yesterday, I stopped for coffee and to meet another former student, Ami, for a catch up session. This young woman was devoted to promoting and cheering on our after-school robotics team when I was their coach. She had a tough time in high school, and she did not like it. I asked her what was one thing she missed about high school, and, no surprise, she told me about a teacher that had a good relationship with her. "Teachers should be there for kids, not a paycheck, Glover." So true. I asked her how she was doing in college, which she pursued with the help of an after school program, and she said she dropped out. She never wanted to go to college, she wanted to go to culinary school. But the after school program was insistent that she go to traditional college - they did not support her passion. She ended in a little debt, but she got out within two years. "You're not going to believe this, Glover, but I do homework. I want to work on stuff at home. Look at my grades - 86, 89, 100, 90. I've only been in school for 6 months!" Ami has begun a baking program in a culinary arts school, and she loves it. She works full time (sometimes 50 hours) to make ends meet while she attends school and learns to bake. "I'm proud of myself." When students are given a chance to do things they are passionate about and interested in learning, they will learn. We need to change schools so kids can explore their own interests with an adult to learn with them, to help guide and frame their learning, not insist upon what content is more important to their lives. How will I help improve schools so all students have a space to guide their own learning? How will I help redefine the role of adults in the classroom so students have teachers that focus on them as people, as learners each with unique interests? How will I create a culture and community of Curiosity? How will I create a space where all students can say, "I'm proud of myself?" I'm proud of you, too, Ami. Keep pushing yourself, and drop off a pear tart every now and then!  I have been reflecting a lot lately on relationships that I have developed with students over the years. I think about those that I have inspired to be better students and better people. Today, though, I'm thinking about how students have changed me. Students have inspired me to be a Maker. Coaching a high school FIRST Robotics team made me realize how inept I was when it came to even basic skills like connecting two pieces of wood together. These kids built a monster of a 'bot. But more than that, they brought me back to a love of learning that had been missing in my life for some time. I taught myself new skills, and I realized that they could do the same. I created a middle school robotics program where we learned to build things together. Heck, those middle schoolers taught me how to solder! But it went beyond skills. Students made me want to be a better teacher, a better leader, and a better man. One of my toughest groups of kids had a particularly defiant young man, MH, in their class. He challenged me daily. But he was part of my Advisory group, and I never gave up trying to get through to him. Years spent together moving from arguing to laughing together. From calling home to explain again the horrible things he said to a call home about his dedication to a better high school life. I grew as a teacher because he pushed me. I grew into a leader to create a space for students like him and AJ (see earlier post here) to show different paths of learning. I became more empathetic and more caring of their stories. I see MH as often as I can in the old neighborhood where I used to teach. I like to hear his stories of high school life. He and a friend will join me for weekend adventures to Maker Faire NYC, or he will ask for a meeting at the library to learn to build circuits or to help with his first resume. Sometimes, we just hang out and catch up. Every now and then, we get to talking about old times, and we both share how important the other was in making us who we are today. I'll be happy to continue sharing that with him for as long as I can. Can you find a young person that deserves to hear something good, and tell them how they made you a better teacher, a better leader, and a better person?  I reached out recently to students, and parents of students, to answer questions about their school experience. Student voice is a critical part of the conversation about innovation and it's place in school. How are we trying to listen to the young people we serve? Are we challenging our assumptions of what they want and need in their learning experiences? I have been following the work of my niece through her high school and college years on social media. She is an accomplished artist, and she even talked about wanting to learn Astronomy (a science-teacher uncle's dream). Particularly, I was proud of the work she did as part of her school's GSA (Gender & Sexualities Alliance) Club to promote acceptance for all students. Then I asked her some questions about her experience, and I was taken by surprise:
From the mouths of babes, folks. We just have to ask. Thankfully the news from her and others isn't always bad.
All of the students that have responded to my survey have all shared a story or thought that speaks to the impact of relationships on their learning - for good or for bad. As a leader, I am going to listen to their stories, hear what they have to say, and use that to ground my learning and innovation for the schools I serve. I will listen to young people to show them that I trust them to help guide my work.
I hear you. And I want to hear more. "If we want meaningful change, we have to make a connection to the heart before we make a connection to the mind." #InnovatorsMindset Every year I taught, the staff assigned a kid (or sometimes a few kids) as my "son" for the year. These were typically young men who were disruptive, used harsh intonation and language, and were frequent-flyers in the Discipline system. I dubbed them as my "knuckleheads", often realizing they were just twitchy and hyperactive, but more than willing to work. When I took the time to get to know their stories, each young man grew on me, like a tumor. I grew to love many of them. One thing I could never come to terms with is how easily they were labeled as a bad kid. Their behaviors blamed on things like, "He's [insert cultural reference here], so he doesn't like women," or "His [insert family member] can't control him, either," or "He obviously has [insert psychological diagnosis, usually ODD]." Never did they say things like, "Maybe my 30 minute monologue on the appropriate use of commas wasn't very engaging today," or "Maybe I'll just talk to him and find out what might spark a little interest in learning to improve his writing/reading/math/art/music skills." Blame uncontrollable aspects of life outside the classroom for behaviors that prevented learning in the classroom.
The most successful work from AJ typically involved a separate project he worked on instead of the work everyone else pursued in class. One in particular sticks out in my mind where I gave him the task of building a bridge from one desk to another that would support the weight and movement of an R/C Monster Truck crossing it. I watched this young man research different types of bridges on his own. He documented his research in his notebook without being asked. He tested various materials to use to create the bridge. He had a specific time frame to complete his project, and it was not done on time, so he had no final product. But he did have student-driven content, multiple iterations, experience doing research about a topic he was interested in, and memories of learning he would not easily forget. He just needed a chance to do things differently. His other teachers allowed him to work on my projects during their class time, so he wouldn't "bother" them. AHHH!!! This kid began writing his Memoirs, designing his own investigations, iterating fan blades for a windmill to generate electricity, making metaphorical connections to new learning, among many other tasks he completed for me. And now, he is suspended, after being absent from many of his classes for much of the year because he is bored with the class, and no one seems to notice or care when he is gone. I know there is another side to the story. But I have heard it before. I know him. I know what he is capable of doing. I told him about my experience visiting a unique learning space in Boston, NuVu Innovation Studio. I shared a studio project I observed where students were tasked with creating empathy in people for animals that were endangered. AJ began talking about how if we don't stop eating bacon, pigs will go extinct. While that is not likely to happen, it did steer the conversation to pig farming, and how I have read articles about people having to wear bio-hazard suits to avoid the spread of disease on pig farms. This sparked conversation about visiting a pig farm to see them first-hand. How are the pigs treated on these farms? Why is there a problem with spreading disease? In 2 minutes, this young man created a project line different from my original line of questioning, and had begun to direct his own content and research on a topic. Over a hamburger. And now, I'm frustrated. I'm frustrated with a system that let this young man down. A young man perfectly capable of learning. A young man perfectly capable of leading his own learning. Where are learning spaces like NuVu in NYC for kids like AJ that whose families can't afford tuition? How do we reach out to our most disenfranchised students, not give up on them, and find new ways to reach them and reconnect them to learning? Aj plans to drop high school. AJ plans to join JobCorps, move to Florida, and learn a trade. He wants to build things and work with his hands. Our system of "school" taught him he couldn't be part of the system as it stands. I'm thinking about Immortal Technique's words right now, "...when you try to change the system from within, it's not you who changes the system; it's the system that will eventually change you." Do we need a new system for learning? A different system all together? Or do we continue to try and innovate inside the box? I innovated inside the box for him, but my pocket of innovation wasn't enough for AJ. Could I have done more? Big questions to ponder.  |
Disclaimer: The views expressed in my blog are my own views and do not represent those of my employer or any other entity.
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