Harmony

The cherry blossom epitomizes mono no aware. Photo by Heather Duvall 

The Japanese have a phrase they like to use; like with many foreign terms, its English translation, ‘the pathos of things’ doesn’t quite bring the meaning home. Mono no aware is the bittersweet feeling that we get from the impermanence of things. We feel mono no aware whenever we have that knot deep within because we know that the willow we love so much will at some point wither, the pure white snow melt, the seasons change.  Yet it would be misleading to associate this feeling solely with nature.

I’ve always felt a connection with this phrase, way before I'd even heard of it. I recall those tranquil Maltese summer nights, where as a teenager I’d lie awake at night listening to Miguel Bose whistling nostalgically in Se Tu Non Torni. I'd feel an awkward sensation that I couldn’t quite articulate. I later came to realize that what I felt was the instinctive sweet restlessness stemming from the life changes we are all bound to go through. 

Since then, a lot has changed: I’ve lived on 3 different continents, my hair has receded and I’ve learned to be more vulnerable with those around me. But time has also taken a toll on my loved ones. The very people who only years ago seemed invincible in my eyes, aren’t anymore.

It all fell into place some weeks ago, at the cinema out of all places. I was watching Interstellar. The scene with Cooper stuck in the kaleidoscope, looking at his own past wishing to untangle time stuck with me; it’s the sad reminder that we’re at the mercy of time, and so are our most intense relationships. Sometimes, no matter how hard we try to rectify things, we run out of time. We’re left with the memories and a deep yearning for what could have been. And this lies at the heart of mono no aware: we have a deep empathy for the impermanence of things around us because they mirror our relationships; we’re just as fragile as them.

Image from Facebook

This is already sad enough, but what about the big elephant in the room? What about death? Well, ironically this is where things start to lighten up. As Rainer Maria Rilke states:

"Death is our friend precisely because it brings us into absolute and passionate presence with all that is here, that is natural, that is love."

In other words, we are more likely to latch on to the things we love most because of their transient nature. If we weren't faced with the great countdown, we wouldn't have an incentive to make the best out of the time we have. In other words, time defines us because it gives us a reason to be. 

Lake Como 

I’m writing this post sitting on a bench overlooking Lake Como. The temperature's freezing; my fingers are cold, but they’re not numb just yet because the fast typing keeps the blood flowing. It's serene out here. I hadn't felt such peace of mind in quite a while. And like in those half-forgotten Maltese summer nights, I’m tempted to feel nostalgic, but I won’t. Instead, I’m going to remind myself that this is a happy post; after all, the most deep-rooted emotions live through time. Time is the yin and transcendence is the yang. Mono no aware.

Home

I need to start this post by making a premise: it won't be about education. Instead, I'm going to switch gears and write about my other love: Malta.

In the last years, I've become quite sentimental about my native country. In fact, I'm starting to feel a deep yearning for it. Indeed, many of you would say, we are in the festive period, and one always looks forward to spending time with their loved ones. 100%. But I think there's more to it. 

Some weeks back, one of my students, Cristobal, wrote an interesting blog post explaining how Halloween epitomizes the homogenized world we live in. And he's so spot on; we live in a world where airports, malls, hypermarkets, housing and what not are starting to look alarmingly identical.  For all we know, the airport in Lima could have been based on the same blueprints as that of Amman in Jordan. Dull.

And this is why I have a new found fondness for my country. Even though, Malta has had to yield to globalization over the years, it has still managed to maintain its own distinct charm. I love taking long strolls along the narrow alleys past the old grocery stores and fruit vendors. I love sipping Nero D'Avola inside the ancient walls converted into dimly lit wine bars. I love the fact that there's no Starbucks in Malta, and I can still get my coffee poured by the local guy wearing the rather fitted wife beater. Calling the coffee shop rustic would be an understatement. It might not be subjected to the most rigorous of hygiene inspections, but the experience is priceless. You'll have to trust me on this one. 

So, could it be that I'm slightly overhyping Malta's distinctiveness? Yes. Are there other cities that have their trademark charm? Definitely. But the point I'm trying to make is that we shouldn't look at conformity as the way forward. We shouldn't aspire to live in a cookie-cutter world that lacks originality and character. 

I'm a firm believer of hands-on, interdisciplinary learning; however, I cringe at the idea of having this be the only educational model at every school. There's something to be said about offering kids a wide-range of options and letting them find their best fit. Diversity offers choice and choice empowers.

Did I say this post wasn't about education? Oops. 

Are you still not sold on Malta? Then you've got to watch this: 

Round peg in round hole

This time last year, I was feeling restless, because I did not believe in what I was doing anymore. No matter how hard I tried to make learning meaningful for students, I just kept on hitting a brick wall. I was putting so much effort on my end by designing solid lessons, bringing in the experts and allowing students to have more choice in their own learning, yet it still felt somewhat contrived.

I was slowly starting to become disillusioned by it all, because I knew, deep down, that I had been foolishly trying to fit the square peg in the round whole.

And now, as I look back at last year, I can see things more clearly. Back then, I'd say that we couldn't create meaningful work in 90 minutes of class with only the internet as a resource; I couldn't provide meaningful feedback to 90 students; students couldn't juggle multiple projects. Yet, while these were all valid issues, I still did not understand the mother of all problems: students were not buying into those projects because they did not own them; I owned those projects, and the weight was starting to crush me. 

But then the IA came along,  and it all starting to fall into place. Don't get me wrong, this job is challenging; never have I felt this accountable before. Creating a professional magazine that will be judged by a real audience can be daunting. But no matter, how stressful things get, I know that this time I'm not carrying that burden of the project on my own because there are 22 students who have their hearts set on this project and are ready to shoulder responsibility. 

These students own this project because the've had a say in it; when I pitched it to them, we took a whole hour to look at the pros and the cons, we took other options into consideration, and most importantly, we did not make the decision until everybody gave their thumbs up. It took a lot of negotiating from the students' side, but they knew that their voices were being heard.

I guess it all really hit me last Friday; some IA students had gathered to discuss their current class project and out of the blue, Nicolas came up with an idea for the next project: why not start our own food business in the next semester and sell maki's at school? Deep down, I feel that we're not yet ready for such an undertaking; however, I noticed that while I was feeling doubtful about this idea, I wasn't dismissing it either; instead, I kept on listening to Nicolas.  And this was my great epiphany: in my head, Nicolas wasn't the student addressing the teacher anymore; instead, in that moment, he was my colleague, we were equal and his ideas mattered as much as mine.  

What I love most about my Grade 10 cohort is that we're not really a class anymore; we're an organization. We all have our different roles that we want to fulfill at the best of our ability, because we share a common purpose. After all, when you have their buy-in, learning will become an organic outcome.  

In education, we've invested our time and resources creating traditional homogenous classes, because of our ingrained belief that this would be conducive to learning. And here's the irony: it's only by knocking down that very system that you can see deeper learning happen.

The courage to be vulnerable: An open letter to the 2017 IA cohort

Dear 2017 innovators, 

These last days, I've been doing some reflecting on our progress as a cohort and, yes, it's been a learning curve. You guys have been faced with a lot of novelty; yet you were able to come out of your comfort zone and try out new things, the crowd-sourcing of grades being only one of them.  

However, our cohort is only 2 months old, and I'm sure that you'd agree with me that being such a young group, we still need to work on the aspect of trust. In one of our class discussions, Nickle, wisely stated that it takes time for a group of people to have deep trust in one another. And I couldn't agree more. Yet we need to start asking ourselves, what does it take to achieve deep trust within a group over time? 

Last week, I listened to a student face the rest of his peers and open-up about his progress as a learner. Like us, the IA junior class had been crowd-sourcing grades for the whole week.

I could sense the discomfort, as he sought for the right words to explain the why’s of his actions.  In the meantime, the others listened to him attentively; you could hear the drop of a needle. The words slowly started to flow and so did the tears, but the uneasiness quickly morphed into relief as it all came out. His bad habits, his fears, his desires. The moment felt so genuine; it was as if he was finally able to articulate what had been troubling him for so long.   

The fact is that most probably he would have never opened-up in this way had he not been challenged by his friends. His peers' feedback had been blunt and straightforward. Many grown-ups  would have struggled in their place; however something powerful takes place when when we are given the opportunity to see ourselves through the eyes of others: we get perspective. 

So why am I sharing this anecdote with you? Going back to fostering a culture of trust, it all starts with us holding ourselves accountable for collective growth. It’s the idea of caring so much about the others that you’re willing to have a brutally honest conversation with them, no matter how uncomfortable it might be, so that they can be challenged to grow. Because as Barreto put it, if one person grows, then the whole group will. 

But if we want to be able to have these genuine conversations, we must first be willing to be vulnerable. We unwittingly mistake vulnerability for weakness; if anything, it takes a lot of courage to be vulnerable.  

Going back to the Grade 11 crowd-sourcing anecdote, he opened up because he chose to trust. It was trust that helped him let the other people in, allowing them to catch a glimpse of his fears, his insecurities and his aspirations. His vulnerability allowed him to strip down all the protective gear and simply be himself. By being authentic, he put others in the condition to empathize with him.  And when that happens, deep bonds are formed.

So, if you want to understand yourselves and bring value to the world, you'll need to be self-aware and reflective. This will require that you take a leap of faith and seek for opportunities where you can open-up to your peers and be vulnerable in front of them, because the insight it brings is invaluable. 

Yes it takes time to build trust, but it will also take a lot of courage from each and every single one of you. 

Simplicity is so underrated

"Simplicity is a great virtue but it requires hard work to achieve it and education to appreciate it. And to make matters worse: complexity sells better.” 
― Edsger Wybe Dijkstra

In my 10 years+ plus of teaching experience, it has felt as if we've been always resorting to complexity to come up with answers. We’ve complicated schedules and curriculums in the name of learning without realizing that we could have framed the problem differently.

That’s why joining the Innovation Academy (IA) has been a breath of fresh air. Simplicity lies at the heart of this program.

Real projects= culture of excellence

A soccer team would have no reason to be if it were not for the real games. These push players to train hard during the week because they understand that the drills and skills will allow them to achieve mastery. When people see the value in idea, no matter how challenging it may be, they will want buy in. 

Education should be no different; it should provide avenues for students to have their work gauged in a real-world context.  And that’s the IA’s ethos.    

Students interviewing Raul Cachay editor from Cosas

In the grade 10 cohort, students are creating a professional magazine featuring 11 great organizations in Peru. They have taken full ownership of this project: they’ve gone on field trips to interview CEO’s, they’ve reached out to publishing companies and put forth a lot of time and effort to get this right.

Real projects shift the focus away from the grade. In this context, the students care more about the audience. Will their target audience find their magazine useful and up to standard? This is the benchmark students go by.  

One can put in the hours trying to devise elaborate unit plans, but unless the audience is an authentic one, there won’t be the conditions necessary for students to push themselves and create work of excellence. It’s as simple as that. 

Blend them like a smoothie 

By having 4 different disciplines join forces, teachers can easily align the skills and concepts to meet the students’ needs.

The Logo of Break Through, the magazine

So going back to the magazine, students know that they must first master the skills and concepts necessary to create a product of value. Therefore, they learn how to use colons and semicolons correctly, learn about the overarching characteristics of great organizations, so that they can synthesize information properly, and use programs such as Photoshop and InDesign effectively. 

This is pivotal especially if one considers that many of the skills and concepts are common in different MYP subjects. So rather than being covered excessively and superficially, skills and concepts are being learned purposefully.

Purpose

As Corey states the IA’s purpose is to help students find theirs.  This simple yet powerful idea helps drive this program.  We believe that if students understand who they are, they’ll be able to reach their full potential, academically and personally.

Too often, students come out of high school with good grades, but lacking reflection and self-awareness. I cannot but ask myself, what’s the value of a grade, if people still lack identity and purpose? 

The fact is that the IA does not only give a purpose to the students. In the IA, I've found my niche; in simplicity, I've found my happiness. 

That Number

Photo by Mr. TinDC

So yesterday, I told my kids in the IA that we’d be crowdsourcing grades. I frankly expected it to be a piece of cake for students because, let’s face it, in the last two months we’ve been throwing all sort of design challenges at them, and they’ve always responded with great resilience and courage. However, this time, something was different. The same kids who had fiercely taken on complex and unfamiliar challenges, were now staring at me somewhat terror-stricken.

The idea was simple enough. Students would look at their growth chart, which outlines the essential skills and concepts, and would then be grading themselves for each of the 4 disciplines using post-its. The post-it would then be stuck to the board and peers would give each other authentic feedback. This would allow students to call on each other if they decided to rate themselves too high or too low.

Is this idea so preposterous? After all, we’re always pushing ourselves to have a growth mindset. Wouldn’t peer assessment be a perfect avenue for us to reflect and become self-aware? As one of the students, Cristobal, put it, years of brainwash cannot be undone in 2 months of IA .

Aha, grades.

When I asked them for feedback, students explained that while they’d welcome the opportunity to nominate those students who have achieved high grades, they’d feel rather uncomfortable shaming others.

As I continued to prompt students, it became blatantly clear that they did not want to confront each other on grades. Even though these students give each other formative feedback all the time on skills and content, they were terrified of giving each other a number.

But why that number?   

When I went home I kept on trying to wrap my head around this. These students see grades as a stigma because they identify themselves with that number.  Sadly, in traditional education grades are really used to sift students into different categories-categories that are virtually impossible to break free of.  

So should we really blame students if they feel so anxious about that number, especially when that number is closely tied to their identity? This is the biggest deceit we instill into kids and now I’m putting it onto my students to help me try to shift their mindsets.

Any ideas? 

PS. Thank you Corey for the help with this post