Tuesday, September 20, 2022

Reframing Conversations on College

    Recently, Indiana State University launched its Fall 2022 Parent Weekend. Attending, my family and I sat under the stars near the university President’s house, eating popcorn while watching a movie with hundreds of other family members. 

    We were honored to be with our son, Sean, in his first year of college.   

    I wish such pride, humility, and thankfulness for all families. 

     Thoughts went to another event I visited in recent travels. The purpose was to provide information for families and students for life after high school. The event facilitator stated, “We’re here for all families—those whose students are college material and those whose who have other plans. We’re excited to be working with you all.” 

    Intentions were inclusive. I have long had difficulty with the words, “college material,” however. 

    Writing about “college” over the years has inspired a strategy, “Change What the Adults Do First,” in All Other Duties As Assigned: The Assistant Principal’s Critical Role in Supporting Schools Inside and Out. In a nutshell, this strategy calls for educators to take adult responsibility to ensure students are empowered to position themselves dream-catching in their next stages of life. 

    Positioning is key. 

    Student empowerment is key. 

    Training in how the game of life and opportunity are played is key. 

    Adults in schools are key. 

    “Educators must teach with two goals, (1) learning and (2) test taking, in order to arm their students for success. Tests are a natural part of life, no matter where you go. So, get good at addressing testing” (p. 180). 

    My hope is we embrace the opportunity to help students elevate their own potency, to circumvent soft bigotries of low expectations. This begins with words we use and conversations we have. If we all wish to celebrate under the stars with our own children, it begins with our use of the word “college” and an eradication of any misapplied notions of “college material.” 

    Admittedly, this can be discomforting, as it bumps-up against practices we have done for years, and definitions we have embraced. 

    The reason some kids appear as “college material,” or “not,” is more about how well adults have done their jobs, than the abilities of students. Is it more about our own skills and expertise? If all kids do not believe they are college material, have we failed? Possibly so. It has to do with the way we’re using the term, and this can have residual effects. 

    We now have the ability as adults to conceive of college, or so-called “college material” differently. 

    There’s an urgency to it. 

     It is overdue. 

    Any type of post-secondary learning seems to meet the definition to me. Our definition is overly academic, oftentimes while the world invites other perspectives. 

    I once co-wrote the “. . . mop-headed, skydiving drop-zone dude with raggedy shorts, a day-old bologna sandwich in hand, and a parachute on his back . . .” experienced their own version of college “In open-air classrooms, with blue skies, and freefalling at 120 miles per hour” (Donlan & Gruenert, 2016, p. 20). 

    This kid qualified as college-material, for sure. I’ll bet he was provided appropriate encouragement from his skydiving teachers to train for his tests, and not to fail any! Further his teachers were pretty-darned-good at getting him ready to perform when the stakes were their highest. Skydiving licensure tests happen often at 120 miles per hour. 

    I hope from this week’s Quick Read we consider having different conversations with kids regarding college. Dreams about college can be curated more around students’ developing interests—and less from pre-conceived notions of aptitude or abilities.

    With a reframing of how we conceive of college, we can train students to overcome barriers, especially those pertaining to self-worth, self-definition, and anyone’s notion of “material.” Imagine more kids and families watching outdoor movies at family weekends everywhere—at a college, university, or career-technical education institute of their choice; on a humanitarian mission; at a military send-off; in an apprenticeship, or even under the star-lit sky of a skydiving drop zone. 

 Additional References

Donlan, R., & Gruenert, S. (2016). Minds unleashed: How principals can lead the right-brained way. Rowman & Littlefield.

Monday, September 5, 2022

Celebrate the Week Together, NOT the Short Week

With the end-of-summer upon us, many of us are back-to-school after an extended weekend—walking the hallways, talking with students, and making the most of the rush. In All Other Duties As Assigned, I mention leveraging proximity in Maximize Your Visibility, when noting “ . . . you cannot serve at the intersection of a student’s challenges and capacity without being in arm’s reach” (p. 11). 

In leveraging proximity, what we say in passing has an impact. This holds true for comments we make about four-day weeks and extended weekends around holidays. It is important we celebrate our time together, NOT that we have short weeks. 

In other words, “So glad we’re back!” is preferable; “Only four days this week!” is not. Even if the latter tacks-on, “. . . so make the most of it!”, it’s not the best approach. 

Four-day school weeks, while preferred by many adults and students, aren’t for everyone. Some don’t like going home, staying home, or being home. For whatever their reasons, they have a rough go-of-it on the outside. 

Let’s take for instance students who have their only trusted, caring adults in school, or those hungry or neglected. Probably, they aren’t celebrating short weeks or extended weekends. They’re not shouting “T.G.I.F.” 

I sometimes think of things outside of education, to make sense of the things inside—like here, I envision a scene from the book or movie production, The Outsiders, with Ponyboy and Johnny Cade hiding-out in a church, where Ponyboy recites a poem from Robert Frost (1874 – 1963). 

 
Nothing Gold Can Stay 
Nature’s first green is gold, 
Her hardest hue to hold. 
Her early leaf’s a flower; 
But only so an hour. 
Then leaf subsides to leaf. 
So Eden sank to grief, 
So dawn goes down to day. 
Nothing gold can stay. 

Source Credit, From The Poetry of Robert Frost, edited by Edward Connery Lathem (1923, 1947, 1969) by Henry Holt and Company, in link: https://poets.org/poem/nothing-gold-can-stay , with copyrights noted therein for Robert Frost and Lesley Frost Ballantine, as well. 

 

Now with story characters like Ponyboy and Johnny, one might interpret “Gold” to depict the fleeting innocence of childhood or the value of good friendships. For kids in our own schools—some with heavy stuff going on—“Gold” might represent with careless adult reinforcement, that time spent in a safe environment is fleeting, or worse that the rare, trusting relationships in students’ lives will be short-lived, as they are not what is valued and prioritized by those in charge. 

Students of any age may instead wish to hear that educators would rather be no place else than in school with them! 

It’s not a stretch for me to imagine when Assistant Principals verbalize fondly of times NOT with students (i.e. short weeks, pining for the weekend, countdowns to summer vacation, T.G.I.F.’s, etc.) this could circumvent the togetherness and security we’re hoping to foster. I’m not advocating for a prohibition of levity, humor, or a brief respite from organizational minutia . . . just suggesting a more mindful approach to what we celebrate, with peripheral vision always a part. 

Might we note the good that comes with a short week instead—that we’re together again, even if for a shorter period of time, because that is what counts—Because students count. 

That’s worthy of celebration.