"I was moved by the principles that drive this class and I feel genuinely changed by them."    —Meredith T., student

As always, I am setting aside the first week to share my beliefs about school and find out whatmy students think about it.  If we are going to create a classroom culture based on learning, it has to begin right now, right here.  So we need to spend time talking through what school would look like if we could make it perfect.  

“Imagine that you could shape what we do in this class to be anything you want,” I begin. “Let’s assume that the topic of physics is worth knowing.  Let’s also assume that there are a number of outside factors that we can’t control;  you have to be in this building, we have forty-three minutes a day to work, bells will ring, and you will move through your daily schedule as always.  But in this room, with just us making the decisions, we can shape it any way we want.  What if we could create the community of learners that I talked to you about yesterday?  What would that look like?

“In order to help us talk about it, I’ve written down some of my basic beliefs about what school should be.”

I hand out a sheet with “My Working Assumptions,” a list of ten ideas that I hope will stimulate conversation and make some otherwise unstated beliefs visible to everyone.  

I get them into random groups of four or five and have them introduce themselves.   There is always some awkwardness at first, but I remind them that we all need to learn about the other people in the room.  Their instructions are to critique my assumptions, see if they agree or disagree with me and with each other, and decide what the most important assumptions are.

Within a few minutes, the reticence to open up to strangers gives way to a lively conversation at most of the tables.  I wander from table to table listening in, but not sitting down with them.  This needs to be their conversation.

As I move around the room, I hear snippets of conversations that they are willing to say to each other in a small group, but would otherwise be unwilling to share with me this early in the year; since they don’t really know or trust me yet:

“I get that ‘academic success requires personal work,’ but what does it mean that “there’s no free lunch?”

“Whoa.  He’s saying students should have a say in how the class operates?  How’s that supposed to work?  Can we do whatever we want?  Isn’t he going to teach?”

“Do you think he really believes that learning is one the great joys in life?  I don’t think so; if I had a choice between being in school and shooting hoops, there would be no contest.”

“Did you see the seventh one?  I agree that not everyone is motivated the same or will learn just as fast as everyone else, but he’s saying we shouldn’t all do the same thing at the same time.  How can we have a class if everyone’s doing something different?  That’s crazy.  I’m getting a headache from all this stuff.”

Finally it’s time to bring the conversation back to the whole group.  I ask the first table what they thought was the most important of the working assumptions, and why.

Jason, a wiry young man with an abundance of energy, has been chosen to speak for his group.  He says, “We chose the one about sharing the wealth.”  Then he reads: “Within a group, every person has different strengths and weaknesses, so we should share the wealth.”  

“Why did your group think that one was important?” I ask.

“Well, so much of the time in school we are doing things just for ourselves, to get a better grade.”  Jason’s leg is jiggling up and down as he speaks.  I will come to know that nervous energy well in the course of this year.   “There’s a lot of competition and we are alone when we’re trying to learn something.  We just thought that if someone knows how to do math better than I do, it would be good if they could help me learn it.”

“I agree totally,” I reply, turning to the rest of the class.  “Whatever else we do, there will be lots of opportunities foreveryone to give and get help from other students, not just from me.  There’s only one of me, and there are twenty-five of you;  there’s no way I can talk to all of you and give you all the help each of you needs.

“It turns out that, according to researchers who study how the mind works, one of the most effective ways to master new ideas is by talking about them.  It’s called conversational learning, and we’re going to be doing a lot of it in here, mostly in small groups, so that everyone’s comfortable with it.”

I return to Jason.  “Okay, what did your group argue about the most?  Which of these assumptions did you disagree with?”

He laughs.  “Definitely the ninth one:  

Since high school students are actually adults, they should be treated as adults and should act like adults. 

“We just don’t think that students are responsible enough to handle things like adults do.  In some ways, we’re still kids.”

Mara, sitting in another group, jumps in.  Her hairis split between black androyal blue, and it’s evident that her clothes, while torn and a little grungy, were chosen carefully.  It is definitely a look.  “We’re old enough to drive a car and hold down a job.   Just because some kids in school act immature doesn’t mean we’re not capable of handling things.”

“That’s different,” Jason argues.  “Of course, we can do some things that adults do, but we all live with our parents, and we’re still totally dependent on them, just like we were when we were children.”

This is an important point, so I step in and amplify it.  “I have to tell you that the very idea of adolescence, this in-between state that’s not quite grown up, is a modern invention that’s peculiar to our type of society.  In most cultures throughout human history, there is a direct transition from childhood to being an adult that happens when a person reaches puberty, traditionally around thirteen years old.  There is often a ceremony, which still occurs in some religions in the form of confirmation or a bat or bar mitzvah.  In any case, in almost any other culture throughout history, you would all have been adults for several years now.

“So how many of you feel like you are treated like adults in school?”  It’s a big question, and there is almost no response.  

“Okay, then let me ask you this:  Do you think you deserve to be treated as adults?  Do you think, if you were trusted to act responsibly, that most students would pull it off, or would they abuse the freedom?”

“Students will always take a short cut if they can,” Jason says, laughing.   “Nobody really wants to do homework, so if there’s a way to get it done quickly, they will.”

“So it sounds like what you are saying is that for the most part you complete homework because a teacher is making you do it, and how you get it done isn’t so important.  Do you think that’s really true?”

There is a mix of reactions.  It’s not a clear-cut consensus, but a lot of students agree. 

“So what about the last working assumption?” I ask, and read:

Since students know themselves better than a teacher can ever know them, they should be largely responsible their own learning.

It’s time for a challenge.  “Are you saying students can’t be responsible?” I say.  “They can’t be motivated without being made to do the work?”

“I think students are basically lazy,” Mark responds.  Mark has a buzz cut, and I’m guessing it’s pretty recent, because he’s rubbing his hand over it as he talks.  “Of course, there are the AP students who bust their butts, but I think most people would avoid doing the work if they could get away with it.”

“Present company excluded, how many of you think that there is a lot of cheating going on in school?” I ask.  Every hand goes up.  

“Whoa.  That’s big.  How many of you know someone who has copied homework to get it done?  Again, I know that no one in this room has done this.”  

They laugh, and every hand goes up again.

“So I guess that tells me where you stand with number eight:

If we are going to minimize the institutional rules that make school feel like a machine, we are going to have to boost the amount of mutual trust and respect we give each other.

“From what you are saying,” I note, “it sounds like mutual trust is not practical or realistic.”

Steve is an athlete, and shows it in his clothes and his demeanor.  He has cropped blond hair and icy blue eyes, and he sits up straight in his chair.  “Given all the pressures of being in school, I’m not sure how much trust there can actually be.  But I totally agree about the need to make school feel less like a machine.  For sure it would be better if teachers and students could respect each other more.  But when a teacher disrespects students, there’s no way he’s going to get respect back from them, and a lot of teachers disrespect students.”

“All right,” I say, nodding.  “Let’s move on.”  I turn to the next table.  “Are there any assumptions that your group agreed with?”

“We thought that the one about teaching not causing learning made sense.” Gretchen, a gregarious young woman with an unusually loud voice, is speaking for her group.  She reads:

Teaching does not cause learning.  Grades do not cause learning.  The desire to learn causes learning.

“We agreed that if you don’t want to learn something, you won’t.  Even if you can get a good grade, you won’t remember it if your heart’s not in it.”

“Are you kidding?”  Mark asks in disbelieving tones.  “Basically everything I do in this school is for the grade.  And because I’m doing all that work, I’m also learning stuff.  No grades, no learning.  That’s the bottom line.”

Gretchen replies, “Yeah, but when you have to do things for a grade, you mostly just do it, you don’t really learn it.  It’s the grades game.”

“Sometimes that’s true,” Simone says, “but it’s also true that when a teacher insists that you learn and really pushes you, you tend to learn more.”  Simone is a hard-working student, curious and very bright.  She seems awkward with her peers, at least at this early stage.  “Like in my A.P. European History class, for instance.  We have so much homework, and we are really expected to do all of it.  People complain, but they also work a lot harder, and I think that makes them learn more.  I know I’m learning more than I would if he weren’t driving us so hard.”

There’s some lively discussion about this point.  Some people feel strongly that strict teachers raise the bar, and that students either do the work or fail.  Others feel just as strongly that strict teachers don’t care about their students, and just want to get through as much of the curriculum as fast as they can.

When the time seems right, I step in.  “I would argue that whatever your motivation, when you work harder, you learn more.  (By the way, that’s what assumption number six is saying.)  But why you are motivated matters.  If you are working out of fear, you’ll have a very different learning experience than if you are working out of curiosity or the pleasure of challenging yourself.  I personally believe in the third assumption:

When people are forced to do what they don’t want to do, unwanted consequences happen.

“If we can really come to believe that learning is our central purpose for being in this room together, we’ll find lots of good reasons for working hard and learning a lot.  I believe firmly that it doesn’t take force, and that you learn better when you’re not afraid.  In fact, the most effective learning happens when you are enjoying yourself.  

“If we’re going to replace all that force that teachers apply, we’ll have to do things differently.  What it takes is two things:  a sense of being in it together; and the chance for each of you to start steering your own learning.  The way I describe it is that we need to create a community of self-directed learners.  We’ll be talking about that a lot.”