Customized Education. Not Standardized.

It is with a great deal of passion and desperation that I write this post. I have seen the crushing blow of a standardized education, both personally and professionally. And it is damaging to our kids. We know this. Experts tell us that we need to change course. Deb Meier, Yong Zhao, William Schubert, Ken Robinson, Madeline Levine, Alfie Kohn, and dozens of others share irrefutable evidence that we must revolutionize the journey in public education. 

We have got to move beyond standardization. 

Why? We are damaging our young adults. 

How? As all the above experts have attested, we are hurting their social, cognitive, psychological, and emotional growth. By having our teens/young adults fit into a "one-size-fits-all" educational experience, we force their brains to conform to a predetermined set of academic standards, removing what makes each person special. But what's worse, we are quite literally hurting them physiologically. 

During ages 12 to 25, the brain is going through what is called synaptic pruning. This process includes axons becoming more insulated with myelin (which increases transmission speed), dendrites growing twiggier, heavily used synapses growing stronger, rarely used synapses withering and the brain’s cortex becoming thinner and more efficient. All of these changes create an incredibly sophisticated organ. It is a slow, clumsy process. Teens need years of practice to learn to use their brain’s new networks. But the key here is that if we simply try to control their behavior, rather than embrace this process by giving them opportunities to explore, we will forever turn off the areas that make each child unique.

David Dobbs does a wonderful job of painting the teen/young adult brain in a positive light in his article Beautiful Brains (National Geographic, October 2011). (A summary of the article is here in the New York Times.) We typically hear about the impulsive, idiotic, emotional, rebellious behavior of our youth. But in fact, during this brain transition process, they are in a position to really fly, if we would only view this time as magnificent rather than a time for discipline and control. 

"We're so used to seeing adolescence as a problem. But the more we learn about what really makes this period unique, the more adolescence starts to seem like a highly functional, even adaptive period."

And because our teens/young adults brains are going through the physiological changes described above, we need to offer them creative opportunities to investigate themselves in a way that they are only really capable of exploring at this time in their lives.

Three ways educators can help:

1. Let Them Socialize! We have got to get out of their way. It is still the norm to see a classroom set up in a way where the teacher is talking and the students are recording. We're wanting to "get through the content." But the teen/young adult brain prefers "...the company of other teenagers because they are designed to invest in the future rather than the past. And they perceive a social crisis as a threat to their very existence because, on a neural level, our brains react to peer exclusion much as they respond to threats to physical health or food supply.” Simply put, social engagement in a learning community is critical. If we don't allow for this growth, students will "starve."
2. Give Them Something New! How fatigued with the institution of education students must be by the time they get to high school and college. We are slowly testing them out of curiosity and creativity, and it's evident by the time they begin 9th grade. They just want to know what they have to know so they can check it off a list. But, "...we all like new and exciting things, but we never value them more highly than we do during adolescence." Typically, thrill-seeking is only interpreted as dangerous. But perhaps we can offer opportunities for this to be constructive. This age is open to new experiences. So let's give them some. Engage them in relevant, meaningful tasks where they get to work with peers on a challenging, exciting problem. Etc. Let's practice creative teaching.
3. Embrace Flexibility! We are all a bit eager for the last part of the adolescent brain to finish developing. The frontal lobe. But perhaps we shouldn't be in such a hurry. The frontal lobe develops to increase speed in decision making. But with speed, you lose flexibility. By customizing education for the children who cross our paths, we allow for them to practice flexible, creative problem solving and prepare for an unpredictable future. 

We customize our own lifestyles in terms of diet, exercise, intellectual challenge, spiritual fulfillment, social engagement, etc. We find a balance that nurtures our well-being in all areas. We need to do the same for and with our students.

Grab A Tissue...This One Is Sad

Typically, I read this journal reflection aloud to my students during the week of September 24th each school year. However, I am refraining from doing so this year in light of the loss we've felt in our school community. In all honesty, it would be too difficult for me to get through this year. However, I have had students request that I answer one of the reflection questions I asked them, "What was a difficult time in your life and how did you handle it?" The following is my response to that question. One of the most difficult experiences of my life was the sudden loss of a close friend; he passed away from cardiac arrest.

Forty-five years ago on September 28, 1967, a baby boy by the name of Daniel Eric Welsh was born to Kay and James. The fifth of five children. Dan and I eventually became very close friends, like brother and sister. We went to Blessed Sacrament Grade School, Morton High School, and the University of Illinois together. Our schedules were always identical, hour by hour, through grade 12. The only difference that occurred in high school was our language class—when I went to German, Dan went to Spanish. Then during our last year of college, I decided to go into teaching and he applied to medical schools. We both graduated. I began my teaching career and fell in love with it. He went to Rush University for medical school and also had found his calling. We, of course, kept in touch. Twenty years ago on September 24, 1992, four days before his 25th birthday, my dear friend died.


I’m sharing this story with you because I still have a hard time with the fact that he is no longer around, even after twenty years. One action that has provided me with some comfort is to share his life with my students. Why? I’ll explain.


Dan was the type of person who did everything 100%, otherwise he wouldn’t do it at all. When he studied, he studied 100%. No matter what gadgets or distractions we created at the library, he would not stop focusing on his studies. When he slept, he slept 100%. We actually had to break the door down one day to wake him up to go to Physics. Pounding on it wasn’t doing the trick! And when he had fun, he had fun 100%...well, you get the idea.


Saying that Dan was focused doesn’t seem to describe him thoroughly enough. When we were in grade school, we were asked what we wanted to be when we grew up. We actually recorded our responses, and I still have a copy of our class’s responses in my keepsake box. He said, without hesitation, “a doctor.” He was lucky this way. He knew what he wanted to be for a very long time. And throughout his life, his family experiences gave him the motivation to make his dream come true. His focus started at a very young age and never faltered. He was the type of person who wouldn’t miss class in college because he felt that something he learned that day might end up saving the life of one of his patients in the future. He was intense.


I’ve always had a very difficult time during this week of the year, ever since I lost Dan. When it first happened, I remember feeling so weak in the knees, to the point where standing up was an effort. My younger brother, Bill, was worried about me, because he knew how close Dan and I were. Bill had also lost a friend of his, Matt, 2 years prior to Dan’s death. Bill came into my room one day to give me a reassuring hug. I looked at him and asked, “When did you stop crying? When will I stop crying?” He said—and let me remind you that this is my younger brother, but at this moment he seemed so wise—he said, “Joan, it seems like holding onto the pain is the only way to stay close to Dan, doesn’t it? Well, I don’t know how or why, but one day I was thinking of Matt, and I laughed. I laughed out loud. And it felt great. And one day that will happen to you; you’ll think of Dan and smile. You just have to be patient. Just don’t think that the pain of his loss is the only way to stay close to him.” I  knew he was right, but had trouble with this for years. But, about 10 summers ago it happened. I was thinking about Dan, about how in second grade he glued a Kleenex on his eraser and started flying it around the classroom calling it a “Super Eraser”, and I smiled...then I laughed out loud. Bill was right. It did feel good to let the happiness through.


So why share such a painful story? Because if Dan's life can in any way inspire you for one moment in your life to grasp everything that occasion has to offer, if this story can inspire you to make your next words and actions be a positive influence on the people around you, then this story will have made a difference. You have no idea to what extent you are impacting another person’s life. Who knew that I would ever remember “Super Eraser” and that that memory would in some way help me grow as an individual twenty-seven years later? Your words and actions make a difference for you and for others. Speak carefully, listen wholeheartedly, and live positively...


Every experience, no matter how painful, provides opportunity for growth. Dan’s life and death have influenced my teaching in a profound way. And I will be forever grateful to my friend for playing his part in helping me to become the teacher I am.

Science Exploration: Why Bother?

"Voyager 1 Bids Farewell to Solar System." This news broke as the 2012 summer began. Not on the front page of the newspaper, of course. I read it in one of my science journals. I was vacationing up in northern Minnesota when I heard, and I was instantly pulled back into the adventures of space exploration. I followed so much of this as a child, living during the two decades following Sputnik, during the race to the moon. I was mesmerized once again as I looked up at the stars in the clear northern sky. A spectacular view, uninterrupted by Chicago light pollution. I then listened to Science Friday's Ira Flatow share details about Voyager 1's travels. (Listen here.)

Voyager 1 and 2 were launched 35 years ago, in 1977. I was in fifth grade! Each have computers with only 68 kilobytes of memory and use 8 track tape recorders! I am in awe of the project scientist Edward C. Stone who has been involved with the adventures of Voyager since the very beginning. His dedication, patience and passion are extraordinary. Can you imagine being a part of a "science project" for half your life?!

Voyager 1 is about to "go where no one has gone before," no person or man-made object. It is on the edge of the sun's magnetic bubble, about the break through to interstellar space. It travels close to a MILLION miles a day, and has been for 35 years. The vastness of space is incomprehensible.  And simply fascinating.

Over the summer, we lost two legends associated with the space program, Sally Ride and Neil Armstrong. After hearing the news of Armstrong's death, I reflected on the sad reality that a time is fast approaching where all members of the elite club, people who have actually been to the moon, will no longer be with us. And unfortunately viewing astronauts as scientific heroes and reading about space exploration as front page news is all but a distant memory.

Why explore? Why research? Why bother nurturing curiosity, discovery, innovation, invention? Why invest—money or time—in science at all? Don't we know enough? I've heard my students ask these types of questions over the years. And there are so many responses that jump to mind. Here are three that parallel the classroom articles I've handed out and the discussions I've had with my students this year so far.

1. Historically, the journey of science itself, without first having a prescribed incentive or even a specific question in mind, has improved and expanded our knowledge base.. "Time after time, Voyager revealed unexpected—kind of counterintuitive—results, which means we have a lot to learn." ~Edward C. Stone. Exploration for the sake of exploration allows questions to surface that we didn't even know needed to be asked. It is the nature of science. And it's in our genes. As humans, we are naturally curious. If we don't explore the world around us, we are denying our humanity. (And I'm focused on all science, not just space exploration.)
2. Scientific investigation allows for the unification of the global community around great achievement. Imagine if we decided to tackle a single problem together, like discovering the cure for cancer, or determining how to provide clean water to the world, or figuring out more efficient and effective methods for energy. Perhaps if we start to nurture creativity and imagination in school, rather than simply focusing on facts and figures, we can adopt the mentality of dreaming big again.
3. Why should we explore? Well, why not?! That's a better question.

"I fully expected that, by the end of the century, we would have achieved substantially more than we actually did." ~Neil Armstrong

Day of Silence

I can't imagine not being able to speak. Speak the truth about who I am. "Who I am" today is not who I was 5 years ago, and it's not who I'm going to be 5 years from now. But regardless of my age, I've always felt valued. Accepted. Respected. Loved.

Today, as I keep silent in solidarity with those who don't feel this acceptance, I am grateful for my parents. I love them dearly. They taught me so much about love and family. I grew up believing I was important. I knew I was appreciated for who I was. I realize I grew up in an upper-middle class, white, educated, Christian, non-immigrant, traditional family. And that I really didn't have many "battles" to fight. But my parents nurtured the idea that not only could I do and be anything I set my mind to, but that I had a responsibility to stick of up for what I believed in, to take care of the underdog.

I am also grateful for my husband and friends. They have shown me that there's a whole world outside of the small town where I grew up. So many individuals do not have the luxury of "a voice" that I had as a kid, that I have as an adult. And my friends remind me what a treasure it has been, what a gift it still is. I'm lucky to have them in my life. They support my causes, they affirm my choices, and they challenge me to continue to do better for the underdog.

And today, I am particularly grateful for my students. I look out and see 25% of my first period class keeping silent, too. That's 50% more than last year. So we're growing as a school community. My students keep me young. They keep me honest. They remind me that there are many who have challenges that can't easily be voiced. And for those students who don't have a support system, feel loved, I have the model of my parents, husband and friends to fall back on. As my students eyes look to me for guidance and hope, I'm glad I can say, "It gets better. There are students around you who care. Until you feel connected, I'm here. Just hang on."