Week 4 Reading: Misplaced Blame or Beyond the Board

"BLAME" by Joe Huber 2010

"The first part is to declare 'I am the framework for everything that happens in my life'" (Zander, 2000).

It's easy to get caught up in the blaming game. Fingers are pointed and words are exchanged. Each side strives to make their point so effectively (and sometimes loudly) that they don't often hear what the other person is trying to say. Sometimes this is the outcome of the particular game that we have chosen to play. Far too often we feel like we are at the whim of some larger force or some grand scheme when, in reality, we have the ability to shape our own destinies simply in viewing the world from reality glasses.

Far too often I've seen the fault and blame waltz, and sometimes I've been a willing participant. After all, it's easy to blame a slight fumble or misstep on your dance partner claiming that they have two left feet or stepped on yours.

It's that system of reward and punishment that we use to measure accountability that facilitates this behavior. Consider that high stakes standardized test that is administered to our students each spring, and you'll see what I mean. Students either score high, which results in a reward for them (passing to the next grade level), reward for the school (A status earns prestige and more money), and rewards for the staff (continued employment). Should these students not do well on the test, they are held back, schools lose funding, and employees are fired. For two years in a row, my school has failed to make AYP, despite being an A+ school. The first year we were told it was the fault of the teachers because we weren't differentiating enough. The teachers in turn blamed the students saying that they failed the test on purpose or just weren't smart enough. This year there was another round of blame, but I didn't pay attention to it. I zoned out.

I would rather be the board than one of the players this year. Maybe those students who didn't win the game last year did so because they really didn't want to play it. At some point we have to realize that the rules were written by adults, for adults. Children are the innocent pawns that are forced to play the board game when they would rather play a video game. They are bored with the board.

In typing this I've just had an epiphany. I don't want to be the board, I want to be the playing field.

Zander, R.S., & Zander, B. (2000). The art of possibility. Boston, MA: Harvard Business School Press.

Week 3 Reading: BTFI and "One Buttock" Teaching

Photo "Railroad Tracks" from The Stock Exchange (http://www.sxc.hu)

BTFI: Beyond the F*&% It.

With the return to school and the inevitable horror of planning week, I had the opportunity to express many FI moments. What I am particularly enjoying about the Zanders' book is how every time I pick it up to read it, it pertains to what is happening in my professional life. I had originally intended to get all of my reading done and finished so that I could focus on the publishing aspect of my final project, but procrastination got in the way. I have a difficult time doing anything when I'm given too much time. In the case of the readings, it worked as I've read each chapter at the most apropos moment.

I am the first to admit that I let planning week get too far under my skin. I do not work well with adults, and find that I'm better suited to conversation with my students than my colleagues. In fact, one of the big sticking points this year is the loss of our block schedule. Personally I don't care whether or not we have traditional or block, and most of the studies on either are told from the adult point of view. Our vote on the topic was last year, and the bitter arguments surrounding that time period still ring fresh in my mind. I had a FI moment, mostly due to my apathy on the subject, and created a BTFI moment when I told my students about the vote and asked them what they preferred. It would directly impact them, so in the absence of a strong feeling on my part, I let them be the deciding factor. I announced this to one of my team members this week, who now is confused as to why the opinion of the students matter so much to me. This is another BTFI moment in the making; it's too early to see how it will play out.

I decided yesterday that I've had my FI moments, now it is time to work towards the BTFI moments. I am going to teach like I'm balancing on one buttock and take those risks again. It seems like every 1st week back with just the staff produces a plethora of FI moments; it's the prospect of BTFI moments that makes me love my job.

"Where is the electric socket for possibility, the access to the energy of transformation?" (Zander, 2000).

Like Zander says, it's where you let yourself go and lean into your work. Where you dare to let go of the edges and participate. This is the kind of teaching that I do in my room. I used to call it "flying by the seat of my pants." Zander refers to it as being on one buttock. I can't plan ahead, and I can't do direct instruction. Both of those bore me, and when forced to do either. I've been placed in a situation where I am forced to accommodate a direct instruction and type "A" planner this year. With Zander's and Buddha's help, I have come up with a solution to my dilemma. It involves both BTFI and the one buttock method. We'll see how it pans out.

Zander, R. S. & Zander, B. (2000). The art of possibility. Boston, MA: Harvard Business School Press

Week 2 Reading

"Against the Grain." Photo by Joe Huber © 2010

On Being a Contribution:

I can sympathize with Zander’s (2000) predicament of feeling like he never had anything worthwhile to say at the dinner table. I can remember those moments where I felt compelled to make something up. It wasn’t my fault though. School bored me. It was much too easy. Needless to say I was never able to contribute much.

On the other hand, I am reminded of a quote in one my favorite movies, “Home for the Holidays” (Foster & Rajski, 1995) Two of the main characters played by Holly Hunter and Dylan McDermott are discuss how awkward they feel around their parents. McDermott’s character responds that whenever he’s around his father he asks him how he is and the response is always “Bogey bogey par par son.” McDermott’s character reveals that he doesn’t have a clue what that’s supposed to mean.

I think that part of the reason why we might not feel as if we contribute is because it is hard to find someone to validate us for our thoughts, emotions, and interests.

Taking these two concepts to heart, I began to surmise that I could apply this to the classroom, and on some small level I do. I always ask with genuine interest what my students are going through. It goes back to something that I learned in my undergrad degree. When you ask someone how they are is it just a conversation starter? Do you really care? When they ask you do you deliver a canned response and continue walking? Of course it helps that I’ve always been more able to relate to small children more than I do with adults.

After reading this particular chapter, I plan to follow Zander’s letter writing example yet again in my classroom. I too want my students to contribute, and the white sheet method will work nicely. I know that my students do contribute, but the simple act of writing it down may make it both more relevant and more obvious.

On Leading:

I must admit that I’ve followed Zander’s example here. I don’t lead from the front of the room; in fact, I don’t lead at all. I let my students do that. I give them a gentle nudge here and there, but more can be learned in relinquishing control than maintaining it.

Rule #6.

I’m beginning to enjoy how Zander begins his chapters with anecdotes. As I read this passage, I couldn’t’ help but think how I plan on creating a giant poster for my room that states “Kindly Remember Rule #6.” I think that as adults we tend to take ourselves too seriously far too often. I know that I do from time to time. In fact, I take quite a bit seriously that a year from now won’t even matter. The problem with ignoring rule #6 is that it prevents us from enjoying the process because it only lets us stress about the imaginary outcomes.

Foster, J. & Rajski, P (Producer), & Foster, J. (Director). (1995), Home for the holidays [motion picture]. United States: Paramount Pictures.

Zander, R. S. & Zander, B. (2000). The art of possibility. Boston, MA: Harvard Business School Press

Week 1 Reading

“Not just in this case, but in most cases, grades say little about the work done” (Zander & Zander, 2000).

While reading the Zanders’ book and the chapter titled “Giving an A,” I was reminded of what I did for my students last year.

It was the end of the year, and I was teaching 8^th graders whose only focus was the finish line, graduation, summer, and on to high school. As if dealing with hormone issues wasn’t enough, I was exposed to a whole new gamut of emotion. I remembered what one of my FSO professors mentioned about assignments that would earn an A as long as we followed the directions. I decided to do the same for my students. As they stated in their book, I was extremely surprised at the results. My students created their best work, they took the time to accomplish their goals, and they actually listened to, and followed, the directions.

Grades actually did nothing but create an air of competitiveness that actually stressed my students out. Removing that stressor released their creativity and they were actually more engaged in the lesson. Before reading The Art of Possibility, I had already planned on utilizing that same approach at the start of the year with my classes. I am going to build on concepts learned in MLT and GSM to incorporate in my syllabus, which, hopefully, will allow my students to achieve.

I plan to follow Zander’s example and have my students write a letter to themselves about why they deserve the “A.” I’m hoping that becomes a motivator. Since I will be teaching middle school students, I think that the best course of action will be to have them write one letter per semester so they won’t just write something and forget it.

While this concept may bother some people who live for the grade and strive for extrinsic motivation as the source of value for their own self-worth, I’m hoping to prove otherwise and believe that I may have just stumbled upon another facet for my ongoing AR.

Zander, R.S., & Zander, B. (2000). The art of possibility. Boston, MA: Harvard Business School Press.