TEDTalks: Response to Ken Robinson's "How Schools Kill Creativity"

In an entertaining and profound TEDTalk, Sir Ken Robinson discusses how our schools are killing creativity within children.

Why this TEDTALK is awesome?

1) He's a knight! I think. . .  I mean, why else would he have a "Sir" in front of his name?

 

He is! He was knighted in 2003 for his services in the field of education, according to his TEDTalk profile. Nice!

2) And he's British! The amount of charm that oozes into my ears each time a Brit opens his or her mouth makes me want to swoon each. and. every. time. Add to that a sense of humor and an important discussion on educating students and I'm paying attention.
 
          - He makes a joke about Shakespeare being in an English class as a child. The video is worth
            watching for that alone!

3) Lastly, Sir Robbie (may I call you Sir Robbie) makes some really interesting statements that I think all educators should hear, ponder on, and decide what their next steps should be.

Sir Ken Robinson essentially argues that children are educated out of their creativity. What this means is that throughout their educational careers, they are made very much aware of what skills and fields of knowledge are most valuable. Sir Robinson also says that perhaps the purpose of education seems to be to produce university professors and when one thinks of what the most important subjects in all schools are--English, Math, Science, and History--he seems to have a point. Additionally, the subjects that are seen most useful are those that will allow students to find "work" in the future. It's the reason that universities are teeming with business majors, while visual art programs are being cut or down-sized. This happens after years of talented, intelligent, and creative people believing that they are not so because everything they were ever good at was never valued or was even stigmatized.

The statements that stood out most starkly to me as a future educator is the fact that we have molded students into being positively terrified of being wrong. Mistakes have become the worst thing that a person can make. Young children are not initially afraid of making mistakes; "If they don't know, they'll have a go." They're not frightened of being wrong. However, an education system that penalizes harshly for mistakes has succeeded in educating people out of their creative capacities.

If we believe, as Sir Ken Robinson does, that "creativity is as important as literacy and should be treated with the same status," what can we do to change the way things are? Do we start grading for effort? Do we incorporate more creative tasks into our units? I believe that the root of the answer lays within creating a different classroom and school culture. From the very first day of school, students should be re-acclimated to a new way of learning. One that is exploratory in nature and based on inquiry. In this way, students can begin to re-discover their creative natures and we can lessen the stigma of making mistakes. By creating comfortable, caring classrooms where students can be at ease to make mistakes, we can guide them down the path to creative discovery.

WTH: Can I have some of your soda?

This is a new series (one I'd like to continue) to detail the strange, unusual, odd, and just plain weird happenings in the classroom.

For the past seven weeks, students (from my student teacher placement in the 8th grade) have been working steadily on a biographical research project. Today, they began creating podcasts about their chosen individuals (using Keynote). As students worked independently, I circled the classroom, checking in, keeping students on task, and answering any questions that arose.

About half way through the period, I hear another "Miss Hydara" from a male student. I turn around and the "Yes. What's up?" freezes on my lips.

He's holding my soda. My opened Sierra Mist, matching lime green bendy straw inserted, that had been sitting on my desk . . . in this student's hand. 

"Miss Hydara, can I have a sip of this?"

"What . . . " the heck? "No. Just . . . no. Put that down."

"I'm not going to drink from the straw. I'm just going to go like this," as he mimes tipping the can back into his mouth.

"No, just . . . no. No, no, no... you are crossing so many boundaries right now. Just put down the soda and get back to work."

I was absolutely perplexed and obviously not very articulate. I didn't know how to respond because his question broke what I thought was an extremely clear unwritten rule--you don't ask to share food or drinks with your teacher or any person you aren't totally, like, BFF's with, you just don't. Or is that just the germophobe in me?

TEDTalks: Response to Rita Pierson's "Every Kid Needs a Champion"

The first time I saw this video was in September during the Superintendent Conference in my student teaching placement. My first response was "WOW!"


A few days ago, I discovered TedTalks (where has this site been all my life?!) and re-watched Rita Pierson's talk on why "Every Kid Needs a Champion."

I want to begin by saying that my goal for becoming a teacher (in addition to geeking out about literature with 12-18 year old who could care less) has always been to be a champion for students. I've always wanted to be someone they could depend on, someone who would care for their well-being, someone who would guide them as they grow up into successful individuals. So, I agree with Pierson whole-heartedly.

Pierson's comment that "children don't learn from people they don't like" is so simple, yet so profound. Why does it seem as if educators forget what it meant and felt like to be a student themselves. Once they find themselves on the other side of the desks, do they forget all of the things they loved, hated, and felt neutral towards as students?

"The best teacher is one who never forgets

 what it is like to be a student."

- Neila A. Connors

When my mentor says that one of my strengths is that I allow students to see my real self, that I'm authentic in the classroom, I feel both proud and saddened. By mentioning this observation in the first place, it shows that being "real" isn't the norm and teachers often maintain a solid barrier between themselves and students.

My last day of student teaching made it obvious how important human connection is. When you have students wishing you luck and making you cupcakes to say they'll miss you, it feels good. I hadn't noticed that I was so well-liked. While I consider myself very friendly in the classroom, I still pushed students and made them work hard. What's even more important than students "liking" me is that they respect me. They place value in what I have to teach them and/or suggest about writing and becoming better writers. A student did poorly on a essay about The Beatles. After sitting down with the student to go over how to revise her paper, she came back the next day to say that she actually liked her draft. And when I read the revised version? It was so much better! That, my friends, is what makes it all worth it.

Human connection and relationships aren't only important for students to learn, but also for teachers to teach. I think we can say that teachers don't teach students they do not like as effectively. That is not to say that an educator should ever be unfair; no student should ever feel that he or she is disliked. However, I believe that we can all agree that it's easier to go the extra mile, to wake up in the dead of night/early morning for students who are pleasant, friendly, polite, and eager.

From now on I'm going to ask myself at the beginning of each school day, maybe even each period: How will I be a champion to my students?

Last Day of First Student Teaching Placement

Today, was the last day in my first placement in the high school as I'll be going into the middle school next week. It was quite a bittersweet day filled with endless surprises.

We could say it began the night before when I receive a text from my mentor teacher: "J__ has a little crush on you....!!" J__ is her cutie-patootie, 7-year-old son. He and her husband had stopped by yesterday morning to drop off her forgotten coffee (that, my friends, is real love) and had stayed for the first few minutes of Period A.

This morning she tells me the whole story of what he had said exactly: "Fatuma, didn't look the way I expected." Well, how did you think she would look? "I don't know, but I like her voice. What else did she teach besides the word of the day? She's in college? To be a teacher? What is she doing this weekend?"

Two words, folks: Life Complete.

Then, a student stops by before first period to drop off cupcakes . . . that were made for me! Apparently they'd said "We'll miss you," but she nearly dropped them as she was leaving this morning and the frosting message was smudged. Come one, everyone, say it with me: AWWWW! I was so pleasantly surprised. Astounded. Flabbergasted.

Even more so, when my mentor teacher turns around and pulls out a pink gift bag . . . again, for me! Inside was a beautiful faux leather bound journal, also in pink, accompanied with a beautiful card and the following message: Dear Fatuma, It has been a pleasure mentoring you--you are a terrific teacher with so much potential! Be sure to take time along your journey to record your thoughts and feelings. Stay in touch, H___. Be still, my heart, be still!

Next, towards the end of the first period, my mentor teacher makes the announcement: "Everyone say thank you to Miss Hydara." The Class: "Thank you, Miss Hydara--wait, what? Today's your last day?" "Yuuup," as I look up sheepishly. "Why didn't you say anything?" Because I hate goodbyes and I was planning to just slink out of here and send an email this evening. "Because Miss Hydara doesn't like goodbyes and didn't want to make a fuss." Amongst the "Going to miss you," "You were a great teacher," and "Good luck. You're going to be an amazing teacher," one student came up and stuck a hand out, "Thank you for everything Miss Hydara; you were an amazing teacher." "Thank you; the pleasure was all mine," I replied as I firmly shook this incredibly young man's hand.

Each period was this way, with students sad to see me go and wishing me luck. You could have knocked me over with a feather, I was so stunned.

My student teaching experience in the high school ended the same way it started and has been for the last seven week; an absolute-freaking-pleasure. I had a blast with my mentor teacher and the students. They were such a great group of kids and my mentor teacher was so supportive in giving me the freedom to grow into myself as a teacher. My time there has been reassuring in that it has not only confirmed that "Yes, I can do this," but that "I freaking adore doing it" as well.

Wake-up, Wake-up, I Say! (Dealing with Sleepy Students)

Today, I shocked my students by yelling in class. They were looking all droopy-eyed and lackadaisical (previous Word of the Day reference). It was the quiet Period G, 10th grade co-taught class that is right after both my and the students' lunch. I was feeling pretty sleepy myself and I just couldn't take it anymore: the asking of the probing questions and the receiving of the blank stares and silence was driving me batty. So I verbalized my frustration in the only way possible: "Asdhddjdjdbeosjh!!! Guys you're killing me, wake up!" They jumped. Some at least two feet out of their chairs, but my sudden shout woke them up and after some laughter--nervous and slightly frightened from them and amusement from me--we continued our riveting discussion of Jack Finney's Contents of the Dead Man's Pocket.

Mean Teacher Pants? Check! (Dealing with Chatty/Off-Task Students)

Today, I had to put on my big-girl-mean-teacher -pants for Period E Freshman Writing Seminar. Yesterday, students were doing in-class revisions of their persuasive essays. As they worked on revisions, I called students up one by one to discuss two major concerns or questions they currently had about their essays. As I was trying to do this however, the rest of the students were going out of their ever loving noggins! Side conversation, giggling, and distracting behaviors galore, as if it was going out of style. My mentor teacher had to step in with a, "You think she's bad cop? Well, I'm worse cop. If you need even more work to do, I can certainly give you some," as she preceded to do so.

However, today I wanted to take matters into my own hands.

While my mentor teacher wasn't in the room (total coincidence, promise), I gave the students a serious talking to:

"Your behavior yesterday was completely unacceptable. The constant side conversations need to stop NOW. These one on one conferences? I don't have to do them. They're to your benefit. So, let me tell you what we're going to do today. We're going to continue revision and conferences. However, if I hear a word out of any of you, I. Will. Skip. You. Not only that, you will lose points on your final paper. What that means is that if by some miraculous power you turn in a perfect paper, you'll still be starting from a 95. Do I make myself clear?"

A "Yes, Miss Hydara!" was heard from each student. I think I made some of them piss their pants.

Me? I was shaking in my damn ballet flats! The Libra in me absolutely abhors confrontation, even with inept 9th graders. (Inept was our word of the today today inspired by Period E's shenanigans the day before. Nothing is more brutal than subtle English teacher revenge). But guess what? They were absolutely silent during the entire period as I continued conferences. So there!

Larry Ferlazzo's 8 Great Ways Teachers Can Reach Students (With Commentary)

I read this article on the ASCD website. Read in full here:

 

1. Remember that authoritative beats authoritarian.

 "Being authoritarian means wielding power unilaterally to control someone, demanding obedience without giving any explanation for why one's orders are important. Being authoritative, on the other hand, means demonstrating control, but doing so relationally through listening and explaining."

Oh. So thaaaat's the difference. I thought it was simply that one held a ruler and the other didn't. Bummer.

I'm pretty sure I am only physically capable of being authoritative if not permissive. I'm 5 feet, 4 inches and barely 100 pounds soaking wet. Plus, mothers have started feeding their kids some kind of modified food because there is NO WAY that middle schoolers are naturally growing to be 6 feet tall. 

But I guess if I want "students more likely to respect [my] authority—and probably more eager to cooperate," I have to figure out a balance. The biggest thing working in my favor is that I've never been one to treat kids like kids and not the people that they are.

2. Believe that everyone can grow. (As long as they drink milk three times a day.) 

"Many teachers are familiar with Carol Dweck's distinction between a "growth" mind-set and a "fixed" one. When we have a growth mind-set, we believe that everyone has the inner power to grow and change. We see mistakes as opportunities to learn. Holding a fixed mind-set leads us to believe that people's traits—such as intelligence—are immutable. A mistake on the part of someone we believe is unintelligent seems to validate that belief."

I've always vowed to maintain a "growth" mindset when I become a future teacher. However, I'm only human and sometimes I passively think "fixed" mindset-esque thoughts. As much as I try to avoid it, particular stereotypes have managed to stick to me. An open mind, voracious reading appetite, and education haven't really combated all of my stereotypical beliefs as much as it's given me a sharper awareness of their existence. That's all I think anyone can ask for. Know that stereotypes and assumptions exist. Know that you have some of them deeply ingrained. Know what they are intimately. Know to be aware enough to stop them from coloring your actions. Walk into you classroom, look at your students, think of the assumptions that exist within you, then throw them bad boys out of the window and continue teaching. That's as close to a fool-proof method for maintaining a "growth" mind set as I can think of. You're welcome.

3. Understand that power isn't a finite pie. (This smells like Math. As an educator of The Incomparable English, I find Math mildly offensive. Alas, let's continue.)

"If I share the power I have, that doesn't mean I'll have less. In fact, the pie will get bigger as more possibilities are created for everyone."

What I think this is saying is that power is more than 100%. If I give a student half of my power and another student half of my power. That equals 100%, but I still have power? Huh?

"Giving students choices—about their homework, assignments, how they're grouped, and so on—leads to higher levels of student engagement and achievement (Sparks, 2010)."

Oh, that's all they're saying. Make student think they've got some power and autonomy in your classroom and you've got 'em in the palms of your hands. Muahahahaha!

The lazy part of my personality loves this way of reaching students. I mean, why should I do all of the work for your education. You gotta work for it, baby. I also think about myself as a student in situations like this. When was I most engaged, having fun, learning?  When the teacher wasn't a control freak and let me take ownership of my actions in the classroom. The lessons and assignments that made the most sense and were the most meaningful were the ones that made me work the hardest, where all of the details hadn't been handed to me on a silver plate. So, I'm all for power and responsibility not being a finite pie (whatever the heck that means) in the classroom.

Side note: I really do understand the "finite pie" analogy so please don't think I'm an idiot. =) I'm just messing. I did take AP Calculus in high school and it was the best decision of my young life as I did well enough to not have to take a Math class in college. Whoop whoop!

4. Give positive messages.

"Positive messages are essential to motivation. Subtle shifts in teacher language infuse positive messages throughout our interactions."

Positive messages. Spshitive messages.Who cares.

"Loss framed" messages (if you do this, then something bad will happen to you) don't have the persuasive advantage that they're often thought to have. "Positive framed messages" (if you do this, these good things will happen) are more effective (Dean, 2010).

Aw, but the "loss framed" messages sound more fun! You could be super creative with the punishments. "If you don't turn in your homework young man, I'll make sure I lose you at the Bronx Zoo tomorrow during our trip. You can make your new home among the seals or the giraffes. Your choice." What kid wouldn't tremble in their boots and bring in perfect homework the next day? But, I guess if I don't want them to fear me (or lose my job and get arrested), I'll practice my positivity. "Do your homework and I'll you 25 cents." . . . I'll keep practicing.

Say "yes." Avoidant instruction is language that emphasizes what people should not do ("Don't walk on the grass." "Don't chew gum"). Some researchers (British Psychological Society, 2010) believe that a more effective way to get a desired behavior is to emphasize what you want people to do.  

Huh. This is actually pretty freaking brilliant! Why didn't I ever think of this. I mean as a kind what were the things you wanted to do most in the world? The things mother and father dearests told you you couldn't do. It was absolute torture! I could have so much fun with this.

A Scenario:
"Ms. Hydara, can I use the bathroom?"
"Sure, you can Jimmy my boy. However, are you sure you want to go right this minute? Wouldn't you rather stay in our wonderful company where magical learning happens and minds are expanded and enriched. Where miracles happen and unicorns and rainbows exist. Where love for thy neighbor is real.
"I can wait, Ms. Hydara."
"Atta boy."

5. Apologize. (Heh?)

"Teachers are human, and we make plenty of mistakes. There is no reason why we shouldn't apologize when we do."

What! Not I, I say, not I. I am a goddess and ultimate perfection (for three days out of the year anyway).

This has always been a pet peeve of mine--adults not apologizing to someone younger even when they know they're wrong. It annoyed me as a child. It annoys me now as an adult watching other adults, especially in the classroom. So, I have no problem adhering to this suggestion.

6. Be flexible.

• "Help them get started. Psychologist Bluma Zeigarnik identified the Zeigarnik Effect: Once people start doing something, they tend to want to finish it (Dean, 2011). If we get a disengaged or anxious student started, that's half the battle.
• Help postpone tempting distractions. Making a conscious decision to postpone giving in to temptation can reduce a desire that's getting in the way of a goal (Society for Personality and Social Psychology, 2012).  
• Acknowledge stress. As most of us know from experience, people tend to have less self-control when they're under stress (Szalavitz, 2012)."

 Don't have much to say about this one. I think they're all important points and should exist in the classroom. As a student, all three of these techniques worked on me so I think they'll be just as effective if utilized as a teacher.

7. Set the right climate.

Pink (2009) and other researchers have found that extrinsic rewards work in the short term for mechanical tasks that don't require much higher-order thinking, but they don't produce true motivation for work that requires higher-order thinking and creativity. However, everyone needs "baseline rewards"—conditions that provide adequate compensation for one's presence and effort.
At school, baseline rewards might include fair grading, a caring teacher, engaging lessons, and a clean classroom. If such needs aren't met, Pink (2009) notes, the student will focus on "the unfairness of her situation and the anxiety of her circumstance. … You'll get neither the predictability of extrinsic motivation nor the weirdness of intrinsic motivation. You'll get very little motivation at all" (p. 35).

Not only is Pink an amazing artist (I absolutely LOVE her), but she's a smart pants psychologist as well. Dang, woman! ;)

I vow to try my hardest for none of my students to say the dreaded words, "that's not fair" in my classroom. Fairness is such an important concept to me that I would hate to play a part in making anyone feel as if they were treated unfairly.

8. Teach life lessons.

"My colleagues and I frontload our school year with what we call life-skills lessons.¹  These simple, engaging activities help students see how it's in their short-term and long-term interest to try their best."

Hmmmm . . . could be interesting. I'll keep this in mind.


Come back for a visit after reading the article and tell me your own thoughts in the comments below!

Thanks for reading,
Fatuma