One of my favourite all time stories is about a kid named Joe*. I first met him when I was principal at a junior high school in Fort St. John. Joe was shy, soft spoken, kind, and loyal. I could tell had a hard time telling me a lie. He was big brother to three younger siblings. He took responsibility for feeding and getting them to school each morning… even though his efforts often caused him to be late himself. Most evenings he also made their supper. His mom was a single parent with a drug problem. Sadly, by the time I got to know Joe he had significant drug issues of his own.

Not surprisingly, school wasn’t going well for Joe. He was on the verge of either dropping out or being asked to leave. It wasn’t surprising that, with all of the distractions he was dealing with, the traditional curriculum wasn’t a real priority for him. I believe he truly wanted to do well (most of us do, don’t we?) but he was failing miserably.

Luckily, a career program coordinator at the high school called Joe to his office for a candid conversation regarding his trajectory. “Joe, obviously the regular program isn’t doing it for you. Is there anything you can see yourself doing? Is there anything you really like to do?” he said. Joe thought for a moment and then replied, “Well, I really like to cook.”

Joe was then registered in the school’s chef training program. After months of hard work by the chef, the coordinator, and Joe himself, he earned his Red Seal. He’s now a real chef.

Sometime later, in my then role as assistant superintendent, I was chairing a meeting of the district’s Aboriginal Advisory Committee (Joe was aboriginal). The same career coordinator was there to report on the successes of his program specific to aboriginal kids. I was surprised when he brought Joe as part of his presentation. Joe was on his way to work, so he was dressed in his white smock and wearing a short white chef’s cap. He stood in front of the group nervously twisting his cap in his hands while he talked about how the chef training program, and his teachers, had provided him with a career. He also said they had saved his life. He sincerely thanked us all.

As you might imagine, there was not a dry eye in the room. It was one of those days when you are proud of yourself for choosing education as a profession. It was a “feel good” story, for sure.

 

 

However, I have to ask, what about these kids? The majority of kids?

(Click here to watch the classic “Anyone? Anyone?” scene from “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” – you’ll get the gist by the 30 second mark!)

What about the kids who are polite enough, or resilient enough, to sit through classes like this? In other words, what are we doing for kids who are not as distracted as Joe was? Who is asking them what they really like to do?

Now, I don’t think there are many teachers like this left out there, but I know that many jurisdictions are still dealing with prescribed curriculum that must be “covered” as well as system structures that are not conducive to making learning relevant and engaging. Do you remember those “read-the-chapter-and-answer-the-questions” Social Studies classes? 😦

Fortunately, more and more brilliant teams of teachers are finding ways around standardization and one-size-fits-all structures to create interdisciplinary and authentic learning experiences.

They are also taking the time to create communities of learners where students feel safe with one another and where they work together in order to co-create knowledge. Communities where dialogue and collaboration are not considered cheating.

These teachers are starting to ask their students, just like Joe was asked, what it is they really like to do.

I hope that parents, educators and politicians don’t get nervous and allow the almighty status quo to pull these teachers back to the comfort of compliance… back to “the way we’ve always done it”.

Sometimes the biggest barrier to change is in our heads.

*obviously, the boy’s real name isn’t Joe 🙂