Individualism or Individualization?

Hey. You. Yeah, you. You’re probably working right now. Or at least trying to work.

I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that you probably work hard. Like, really hard.

But why?

I saw a commercial recently about American work culture. Well, actually it was about a cell phone (one that apparently explodes), but in any case, the narrator spoke of the “tireless ambition” of Americans. “You’re never happy just winning something, America,” he said. “You’re only happy winning everything.”

The commercial then goes on to enumerate the many boons of this work culture and American ingenuity, but I was left thinking, “Wait, why do we work so hard?”

When I delved deeper into my own personal values, I realized how much I use the traditional metrics of title, pay, and promotion as proxy measures of my success, rather than, you know, happiness or quality of life.

And then I started thinking about our kids.

A Culture of Achievement

Every teacher can tell you about the student – or students! – in their class who wants to be perfect, and who, when they inevitably encounter some kind of roadblock, either shut down or become anxious, stressed and overwhelmed.

Recently, I worked with teachers at El Camino High School whose students had overloaded themselves with so many AP classes that they couldn’t even come close to managing the workload. And guess what: it turns out, a love of learning was not driving this behavior.

In fact, when we conducted empathy interviews with students (as part of the Design Thinking process we’ve been using with staff at the school), we found that, by and large, both traditionally high-achieving and low-achieving students were disengaged with school. Those students who put forth effort generally did so not because they were inspired, but merely as an act of compliance; it was a means to an end.

This achievement-focused culture manifested itself when teachers tried to shift their traditional pedagogy towards a more active, constructivist approach. Despite teachers’ attempt to engage their students using a different approach, they faced pushback from none other than the kids themselves. “We’ve tried asking inquiry questions,” they lamented, “but the kids don’t like it. They just want to know what will be on the test and what the answers are.”

To me, this lack of interest from students is a symptom, not a cause; it is a reflection of the same mindset that I struggle with myself: when success is defined by achievement, we always need to achieve more and more and more in order to be successful. Where is the joy, the inspiration, the contentment?

This leads to my first claim:

In a culture that defines success through the narrow lens of individual achievement, some students seek to fulfill their need for significance and belonging through a never-ending ladder of achievement.

“Those Kids”

And then, of course, there is the other kind of student. You know, the ones that (some) teachers refer to as, “that kid.” The ones who don’t do the whole compliance thing.

As you might imagine, in my former role as an assistant principal (aka, the bad guy) I saw many students who fit this mold – or rather, who didn’t fit the school mold. While deep-seated structural oppressions related to race, class, and gender certainly contribute to this disconnect, I believe there is more to the narrative.

Thus the corollary to my first claim: In a culture that defines success through the narrow lens of individual achievement, students who do not achieve in mainstream, traditional ways struggle to feel significance and belonging, particularly in the school community.

These students may opt out of the competition altogether.

In my school (as in many others), older students were more likely to be referred to the office for a disciplinary infraction. While there are some developmental explanations for this, many students explained their outbursts by, “My teacher hates me,” or some other variation in which the teacher-student relationship was at the crux of the issue.

Knowing that our teachers, in fact, cared deeply for their students, I would engage the teacher and student in a restorative conversation to unpack this disconnect. Often, the student’s belief was rooted in their perceptions of how their teacher interacted with them compared to the interactions they observed between their teachers and their classmates.

All of this suggests that what we say matters. A lot.

As educators, we often unintentionally reinforce the notion that that success can and should be measured through a narrow lens of achievement – good grades, high test scores, and extrinsic approval. Success then naturally becomes tied to students’ sense of self-worth, significance, and belonging, which ultimately drives the behavior we see. In some cases, the results are positive, but in many cases, they are not. Of course, many other factors that contribute to the achievement-driven mindset – the college admission process, the myth of meritocracy, and a culture of instant gratification,to name just a few. While most of these fall outside of our locus of control as educators, one thing that doesn’t is the language we use with students on a daily basis.

Implications for Practice

What if teachers and schools actively used their words to redefine success?

What if we began to recognize our children for who they are, rather than for what they do?

What if we oriented our feedback towards how students contribute to their communities rather than to their portfolios?

I bet a whole lot more children would feel a sense of value, significance, and belonging. I bet we could chip away at the culture of work and stress that permeates American society. And I bet we would see a whole lot more engagement in schools.

This shift – from individualism (a focus on one’s individual success and achievements) to individualization (recognizing each person’s individual strengths and how they contribute to a community) – is already happening.

More and more schools are orienting themselves to the whole child and using diverse measures of student success. One example of note happening at the MTLC is Ed Hidalgo’s work with the Cajon Valley School District, where there is a concerted effort to develop strengths-based cultures that lift up the unique strengths, interests, and values of staff and students. Another example is the work of Katie Wright and Dr. Yaoran Li’s with the Monarch Schools, concentrating on measuring children’s non-cognitive skills and their social-emotional health.

Katie Wright and I have been lucky enough to work with El Camino High School, where teachers and administrators are identifying specific ways to make learning “real” for all students (and publishing it on Twitter under #SchoolIsReal – check it out!).

So, where can we start?

There are myriad entry points into this work, but here are a few good places to start.

• Listen to yourself for a day.

Do you offer students praise instead of encouragement? You probably do. I still do. It’s hard not to. But praise doesn’t really motivate students, it merely reinforces the connection between individual achievement and success. It can make kids sensitive to failure and unwilling to take risks. It also has an impact on their growth mindset.

• Reflect on your own most significant learning experiences.

You know, a time that you learned something – truly learned it. What happened during this experience that made it so deeply satisfying? I’m guessing you weren’t cramming for an exam. Reflect on how your most intense learning experience resonates (or contrasts) with your students’ learning experience.

• Love your students for who they are.

Yes, I know you already do this, but keep doing it. Make it your mantra. Our students deserve to know every single day that they are loved and valued. Help them understand what their strengths are (everybody has them!) and how those strengths make them a vital part of your team.

See the original post on the IEE Blog.