Buying in, not selling out. A personal reflection on #purpose inspired by a good friend.

Last week, a good friend took a little jab at me. I don’t think he meant it as a jab. He meant it to be funny. Actually, I think he was expressing deep and genuine curiosity, but because he was uncomfortable just asking me the question, he resorted to making a joke. Maybe to see if I would bite.

He said something like, “So, how are things going now that you’ve sold out to the for-profit world?”

Bless his heart – he got an ear full of questions from me about what he was actually curious to know and what assumptions his question was really based on. I say “bless his heart” because he was the one I “unloaded” on. My cup on this topic felt full because in the last three weeks about ten people – all in the school business – had made hints at wanting to talk about the same issues. I didn’t bite at the previous nine innuendoes. [It’s interesting how some things can come in waves (maybe because it’s school contract season?). And, of course, perhaps I was more sensitive to the sentiments and hidden curiosities because of the perceived volume in a short time.]

After a deluge of questions from me and honest replies from him, I shared with my good friend that I had taken about a 12.5% reduction in salary when I moved jobs. I shared that I had given up one of the most incredible benefits packages among all U.S. schools, including a completely free campus house and a meal-a-day cafeteria that I would put up against many three and four star restaurants. I reminded him that I had announced my intent to leave in September 2011 – five to six months before I had secured my next position or any guarantee of “big bucks” (to the horror of my father) – because I felt so strongly about the direction of my next chapter in educational leadership and service. A leap of some faith that was all about purpose and nothing about pay.

I also told him that I gained far more than I had sacrificed or given up. 

After nearly 200 conversations between September 2011 and February 2012, I was able to join an organization that aligned beautifully with my desired purpose to be part of a team who could support schools and educational organizations that truly want to undertake the serious opportunities for significant transformation. I am in a studio of folks that want to amplify and accelerate positive change for groups that invite us in to partner with them to design and implement higher and holistic sets of possibilities.

Now that nearly eight months had passed, I could assure my good friend that I felt justified and reflectively peaceful in making my transition. While I missed the known and “comfortable” life of school principal, I was growing immeasurably among my new team of transformation designers, strategists, and sense makers. I could share that I feel harmonious with a group of people that aim to assist and empower organizations that want to radiate acting on the things that matter most.

I could also share that my quality of life benefits were through the roof. That I had regained my life as a husband and father. That I was in a place that did not brag about level of exhaustion as a measure of worth and productiveness. That I was in a place that places high value on creativity and vulnerability – with actions and daily habits, not just with words.

Throughout the conversation, I could share that my personal decision to begin a new chapter to my book was based on purpose and not paycheck. Despite being as immersed in capitalism as anyone, I could tell my friend that I had not, in my opinion, “sold out.”

But I do feel that I have bought in and anted up – to opportunities for more significant transformation in the educational landscape.

I so appreciate his willingness to listen and engage. And I am grateful for his encouragement to write a post about our conversation. He said he was thankful to understand my actual narrative so that he could throw away his inaccurate assumptions.

He is indeed a very good friend.

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Posted from Diigo. The rest of my favorite links are here.

Are traditional report cards “vanity metrics?”

Are traditional report cards “vanity metrics?”

In the business world, we talk about the difference between vanity metrics and meaningful metrics. Vanity metrics are like dandelions – they might look pretty, but to most of us, they’re weeds, using up resources, and doing nothing for your property value.

from “Know the Difference Between Your Data and Your Metrics” by Jeff Bladt and Bob Filbin, Harvard Business Review  |  11:00 AM March 4, 2013

English – 92
Math – 89
Science – 91
History – 88
PE – 93
Art – 90

Such a report card might make the refrigerator. But does it really say very much about the student’s growing capacities in writing (ideas, organization, word choice, sentence fluency, conventions, voice)? And did you assume from that last sentence that I was referring to English, or did you assume that such metrics could cut across the departmentalized curricular landscape and comprise parts of all the subject grades? Do we know if the student asks probing questions and demonstrates curiosity for understanding more deeply? What do those dandelions tell us about the student’s application of such thinking skills as divergent, emergent, and convergent explorations? What do we know of the student’s perseverance, resilience, risk taking, and grit? Can we make any deductions about the student’s observation and experimentation capabilities? Do we know how the student has demonstrated integrity and empathy from those pretty flowers on the refrigerator door?

From that data set, the one that will live indefinitely in the fireproof cabinets and ethernets of schools, what do we know about the student’s growth and emergence in the 4, 5, or 7Cs of 21st century skills? What do we see on that report card about mindset?

What are we grading? What are we measuring? What are we commenting on? What are we collecting and recording and archiving data on? What do we say matters most about our children? Do our report cards shed light on what we say we value most?

Is your school asking these questions? Why or why not? Are these questions among more systemic considerations that you are examining?

#QuestionsAreTheWaypointsOnThePathOfWisdom

#PedagogicalMasterPlanning

Schools: Would you score 50% on critical thinking allowance?

As a school, if you declare that you teach “critical thinking,” if you claim to develop this one of the 7 C’s of 21st C learning, then how much time and attention do you devote to divergent thinking? How much space and freedom do you allow for this 50% of meta-cognition? For faculty? For parents? For students? For administration?

Measuring Creativity: We Have the Technology

Or would you likely get a “50” on your report card for creative critical thinking allowance?

#HowDoWeCreateWhatWeFailToCulture?

Multi-disciplinary curiosity: 2 resources and the most important 21C “C”

In about 10-12 minutes, you can explore two intriguing examples of how teachers orchestrate integrated, multi-disciplinary curriculum.

From @SteveG_TLC: “Multi-disciplinary News” on What I Learned Today

Here’s a great example of how a news article we might read in the morning at TLC Middle School can be used as a springboard to learn in a truly multi-disciplinary way.

And from @BIEPBL: “Designing Integrated Curriculum” on YouTube

And I might just start putting this @ASCD article at the conclusion of every post:

The Case for Curiosity

The irony is that children are born with an overpowering need to know. They want to know what every object feels and looks like and what will happen when they attempt to do different things with that object. They want to know why people behave the way they do. This voracious appetite for knowledge defines us as a species. And it doesn’t evaporate when babies become toddlers. Every preschool teacher knows that children between the ages of 18 months and 5 years are insatiable for information. Their curiosity drives much of their learning—through asking questions, watching what others do, listening to what adults say, and tinkering with the world around them. But somehow the incessant curiosity that leads to so much knowledge during the first five years of life dwindles as children go to school.

Why place this article here? For me, curiosity is at the heart of both multi-disciplinary examples!