Impossible School

Impossible School

Welcome to Impossible School. I’m Blue, an adult in the building who apparently has enough time to show visitors around without sacrificing something far more useful I should be doing. That’s just the beginning of the many impossible things going on here at Impossible School! 

Let’s start with the foundation of our humble approach – the Possible Machine. I know, I know… the name sounds like a contradiction, but it’s this device which actually makes Impossible School, well… possible.

You’re familiar with pen and paper assessments, yes? (Sometimes they’re on computers, but that merely makes them more expensive – the substance is sadly the same.) Generally these ‘assessments’ make deeply flawed efforts to determine a student’s existing content knowledge. Sometimes they venture into the realm of hit’n’miss personality profiles or oversimplified learning styles. Rather ambitious for ‘Choose A, B, C, or D’, right?

The Possible Machine does this – properly – and much, much more. It allows faculty and staff critical insights into what each student needs in order to make a meaningful learning experience possible. We can, of course, never guarantee success no matter what we know or do, since student choice unfortunately remains a critical component of all education. But we CAN get SO MUCH closer to providing the best possible opportunities and pathways to each and every lil’ darling who crosses our threshold. 

Here, let’s slide into this classroom for a moment. That’s Ms. Lipsky over there, half-guiding that small circle discussion. These are kids who do best with personal interaction. They need the security that comes with structure, and they’ll read assigned material, but the information takes root and becomes meaningful when they have time to discuss it in a safe, somewhat organized environment. They’re capable of great things if they’re able to do this more often than a traditional classroom allows. 

See the young lady on the far right? She’s not saying much, is she? Normally that would be a red flag, but in her case – 

Oh! We’ve been asked to join in! Over half of the kids in this group were also identified by the Possible Machine as quite capable of professionally appropriate social skills – even at this grade level – if given a little guidance and opportunity. Consequently, they’ve been encouraged to take this sort of initiative.

No, thank you! We must continue the tour – but you’re doing great, kids!

Ah, here – Room 211. Mr. Zeller is giving a rather advanced lecture on the role of Calculus in AP Physics. You see we’re able to seat nearly 200 kids in this class, and have chosen an ‘auditorium’ style seating arrangement. Most of these students are on a self-selected Engineering track or other very #STEM sounding combinations of courses, and were identified easily and early as focused and self-driven. We have several assistants, of course, to provide individual or small group help, but you know the real challenge with this group?

Literature. They don’t naturally love literature. 

Oh, some dragon books and such, sure – but we had to use graphic novels just to build basic familiarity with the classics. We don’t bury them in it, of course, but everyone ought to know a little Jane Austen, don’t you think?

What’s that? The Purple Door? Of course we can. You’ll notice much smaller class size here, and a very relaxed dress code and casual seating arrangements. These students have a variety of needs and gifts, but what they have in common is a lack of intrinsic interest in academic subjects like math or history and varying levels of unsupportive or even chaotic home environments. 

Thanks to the Possible Machine, we were able to realize this immediately and set them up with teachers who, while quite qualified in their subject matter, are more about heart than head. They spend as much time on life skills as they do traditional content, and students are assessed for progress and effort rather than cut scores on state exams written by people who couldn’t on their best day so much as fathom their realities. Most of these kids need protein and access to mental health services more than they need a deeper understanding of the Progressive Era – ironic as that may seem. 

We do, of course, work on math and reading skills. The instructors are some of our most knowledgeable, but their focus is on stimulating interest and applying what’s learned towards successful living rather than simply punishing kids – however wrapped in fluffy platitudes – for their upbringing. 

Across the way here you see a classroom which at first glance looks similar – looser policies regarding dress and language, and a variety of seating options. These kids, however, are very motivated to do well, and consequently can be pushed much further in the cores and several extension topics which vary by semester. 

Pushed? Oh yes, I choose that word quite specifically. I said they were motivated, not intrinsically driven to truly learn. They come from families who care deeply about good grades and college prep and staying in just the right amount of activities. We don’t have to worry about these kids failing – the Possible Machine knew that from the moment they walked in the door.

The challenge with this group is actual learning. Sure, we have ‘grades’ as motivators, but Miss Benovidas and Mr. Carson have shown quite a gift for transitioning them into actual interest in the various subjects being taught. Under the old system, these kids would have been completely written off based on the numbers and letters they were able to secure by successfully gaming the system. We’d throw a few awards at them, give them an extra ribbon or two at graduation, and think we’d accomplished something as they went forth cynical and jaded, unable to see the wonders of string theory or appreciate the beauty of fractals as mathematical art. 

We’ve retained the outdated A-F labeling system, but only to smooth the transition. Miss B. and Mr. C. don’t measure their success or student progress by those silly letters; their challenge is to find ‘sparks’ in the eyes of these little darlings over something they didn’t think they could even care about – the Populist Movement, or the power of allegory in a great speech, for example. 

Thanks to the Possible Machine, we don’t insult students who come from educated, involved homes by dragging them through ‘financial literacy’ or ‘Constitution Day’, and we don’t unnecessarily traumatize them with ‘Sex Ed’ or hours of ‘how to calculate your GPA’. They can skip that and move into what their parents would call ‘real school’. 

On the other hand, we don’t neglect students who couldn’t otherwise ask essential questions about sex, or pregnancy, or health care. We’re able to identify those who couldn’t successfully watch an episode of The West Wing without more background knowledge, and those for whom the only pathway to success in science or math is through music and art. 

The Possible Machine confirms our instincts as to how many of our young ladies need to be told regularly that they’re strong, and beautiful, and smart, or that what happened to them wasn’t their fault – it wasn’t ever, ever, ever, in any way or by any definition – their fault. It points out the young men who seem fine, but who need someone to look them in the eye and ask how they’re doing several days a week, and the quiet ones who really are fine watching and listening and mostly staying… quiet. 

The Possible Machine tells us which kids need sports more than they need World History, and which kids will do better in World History if we use sports as leverage. It helps our teachers better intuit who to push, who to comfort, when to offer greater freedom and when to maintain the comfort and security of unyielding structure. 

We hear repeatedly that “all children can learn,” yes? And they can. Of course they can.

But they can’t all learn equally well in the exact same ways or on the same schedules. They can’t all move forward on the same tracks at the same speeds to hit the same checkpoints at the same time. That’s ludicrous. Imagine a public education system grounded on such an inane fallacy! Why, it would be mired in mediocrity for decades!

At Impossible School, all children can learn, and do so more widely and deeply than they could have imagined. At Impossible School, we build on the unique combinations of interests, strengths, and possibilities each child carries within them – and can reevaluate this yearly, monthly, or weekly if need be. 

We’re able to teach more than the ‘average’ student or the fictionalized ‘standard’ kid. Thanks to the Possible Machine, we’re able to figure out the intangibles of each student – each weird, wonderful, gifted, needy, broken, individualized student – and chart how they might best be stretched and realized intellectually, personally, and professionally. 

At Impossible School, we refuse to treat diversity as a disease only curable by standardization. 

Because it’s possible, somehow. It’s possible – for all of them. 

RELATED POST: Dolph & Lana Break The Rules

RELATED POST: Wil Wheaton, Aquaman, and Octave Chanute

RELATED POST: The Seven Reasons Every Teacher Must Know WHY Kids Learn!

Hetalia: Axis Powers (Toast With A Big Boot!)

Hetalia: Axis Powers

So a few weeks ago a student who doesn’t otherwise say much came up to me excitedly after class. Something we’d mentioned in class prompted her to ask me if I’d ever watched something called “Hetalia.”

I had no idea what that was.

“It’s an anime cartoon in which all of the main characters are nation-states, mostly during World War II…”

Hetalia3OK, strangely I had at least heard of this before. Last year there was a lunch table committed to daily sharing of… whatever one calls ‘fan fiction’ in the anime world. Mostly it was this “Hetalia.”  I remember two girls quite dogmatic about Pakistan deserving a main character.

I didn’t argue. I barely even knew what they were talking about.

After a few moments of excited discussion, the student went to her next hour and I didn’t think much of it. The next day, however, she showed up with a DVD case of – you guessed it – the first two seasons. Inside were multiple post-it notes explaining where to find the parts she’d mentioned yesterday, but encouraging me to watch the entire thing for proper context.

I agreed, but I confess I was not overly excited about the task. Sure, it’s not asking much – I wouldn’t have to go anywhere, or do anything really, other than watch 30 minutes of cartoons. FOR THE CHILDREN.

Hetalia4

Nevertheless, I put it off for a couple of weeks until guilt got the better of me. I put in the first disc.

What. The. $%#&?

It wasn’t a question of whether I liked it or didn’t so much as my having no idea what the crap monkey flight pink was going on. It was fast, and loud, and grating, and musical, and soft, and allegorical, and funny, and satirical, and juvenile, and multi-layered, and – and then suddenly the first episode was over. 

I should watch a few more. FOR THE CHILDREN.

I’m hardly an authority on this show even after 20 episodes, but as far as manic animated chaos goes, it really is rather educational. That’s not the biggest thing I learned watching, however.

For the rest of this post to make sense, I encourage you to take five minutes and watch one episodeHetalia: Axis Powers, Episode 3. Seriously, what else you have going that’s SO important you don’t have five minutes? FOR THE CHILDREN?

[[{“type”:”media”,”view_mode”:”media_large”,”fid”:”1437″,”field_deltas”:{},”link_text”:null,”attributes”:{“height”:240,”width”:320,”class”:”media-image media-element file-media-large”,”data-delta”:”1″},”fields”:{}}]]

 

If I were to quiz you over this episode, how would you do?

On the one hand, none of it’s particularly difficult. On the other, unless this sort of animated frenzy is already your thing, you were probably a bit lost part of the time. Confused by some of the visual and sound effect choices. Annoyed here, bored a moment later – hopefully amused once or twice.

But until you’ve watch a half-dozen episodes, the whole thing’s rather bewildering. It’s not until I watched some of the early episodes again after making it through fifteen or twenty others that I caught half the stuff that seems so obvious to me now. 

Hetalia2Because although I like to think of myself as reasonably bright, this show is in a language I simply don’t speak – and in this case I don’t mean Japanese. It’s a media format that’s really not my thing, and to which I’ve only rarely been exposed. Consequently, someone more familiar with similar shows – or even the comics on which they’re based – might find me a bit… slow. Unappreciative. Perhaps whiney or defiant, depending on how many of my initial reactions I spoke aloud.

You see where I’m going with this now, don’t you?

I had the luxury of going in with a rather low-pressure purpose – to be able to tell a student honestly that I’d watched a few episodes. I was additionally fortunate in that the primary storyline involves content with which I’m at least generally familiar – a kind of ‘World War II for Dummies’. 

Had I gone in with limited time and less prior knowledge, knowing I’d be assessed on my understanding and appreciation of the content, artistic choices, and maybe even production realities of the series, I’d at the very least have enjoyed it less. Any confusion I experienced would likely translate into either frustration with the material or with the entity requiring it, or perhaps I’d turn that negative mojo inward as one more indication I’m simply too stupid to pick up on this stuff as it flies by. 

Hetalia1Watching this show is how my students feel when I ask them to read a great novel for both content and theme, to explore metaphor and the use of language and imagery, or to unravel the roles various characters play in a grander narrative. My experience was somewhat comporable to what happens to them the first time they’re expected to analyze a legitimate historical document, or figure out Causes, Triggers, and Results for major events. It’s not that these things are unreasonable or hard – it’s that they’re not their world.

I’m familiar with the basic structure and literary devices books like Lord of the Flies or The Grapes of Wrath. I have the background knowledge to appreciate the tone and subtleties of True Grit or follow the allegory of Animal Farm. Heck, on a good day I kinda get Shakespeare’s wordplay – from sheer years of exposure and repetition if nothing else.

Hetalia5

But they walk in cold, and often against their will. Even if they’ve read books before, they’re confronted with new varieties not following the rules of all that’s gone before. It’s easy to become annoyed, or lost, or simply apathetic as they have less and less idea what’s going on or what’s expected of them. They’ve never been asked to see people as countries or elements of human nature or wonder why pigs would be in charge and want so badly to claim they’ve built a successful windmill even if they haven’t. Take away context, prior knowledge, and intrinsic motivation, and how great is YOUR favorite poem, novel, or short story?

Exactly. 

I’m glad I watched some Hetalia. I don’t know if I love it, but I ‘get it’ enough to at least enjoy it. Totally worth it the first time I brought it up and was able to talk about it with minimal competence to the student whose enthusiasm first sucked me in. I was able to confess my confusion while still offering her enough feedback to clearly demonstrate I’d invested myself into something important to her, then gladly let her explain the parts on which I was still a bit unclear. 

What Hetalia are you assigning to your kids, perhaps with increased frustration they’re not naturally engaged masters of the form? And what Hetalia are you taking on in order to better glimpse their equally rich and valuable worlds?

What’s that? Just one more? OK – if you insist… 

[[{“type”:”media”,”view_mode”:”media_large”,”fid”:”1443″,”field_deltas”:{},”link_text”:null,”attributes”:{“height”:240,”width”:320,”class”:”media-image media-element file-media-large”,”data-delta”:”2″},”fields”:{}}]]

 

Why Kids Learn (a.k.a ‘The Seven Reasons Every Teacher Must Know WHY Kids Learn!’)

To Save Time

I’ve been in the classroom for 16 years and doing this blog for about 18 months. I don’t have a Master’s Degree in anything, nor am I pursuing one. I don’t like most edu-books and haven’t done independent research on how or why kids learn or don’t. I consider myself thus supremely qualified to write on this topic.

There will be no footnotes. 

There are 7 Basic Reasons Kids Learn. I number them to increase clicks to this post and to lend artificial credibility to what is essentially an opinion piece.

1. They Learn Accidentally

Why1Kids learn while playing, or while caught up in other things. Everything from blocks and unstructured time as a little person through video games or online arguments as a teen – information, good or bad, is created, encountered, or absorbed. This one is so very important and can be crazy effective – but it’s the one most threatened by the Cult of Assessment and our own unwillingness to Defy the Beast. 

It also gets trickier to create these opportunities intentionally as students get older. 

2. They Learn From Family & Loved Ones

Why2We all know the value of parents reading to their children. In a perfect world they take them to museums or musical performances, or travel places promoting conversation and reflection. How many times a day does a parent or sibling overtly attempt to explain a ‘why’ or a ‘how’ to a little kid?

But they learn all sorts of other things as well – attitudes towards authority, or learning, or society. How to solve problems (in good ways or bad). What matters and what doesn’t. Where they fit in the world. 

What they’re worth as an individual. 

This is the stuff we’re quick to bring up when people start blaming teachers for everything, and probably the biggest factor shaping what a child KNOWS and who he or she IS over which we have almost no control. 

We also go to it as a cop-out when our calling becomes difficult. Sorry, educators – but it’s true. 

3. They Learn Because They Like The Subject

Why3This is the ideal. Those kids who keep wanting to know if they can leave your class to go finish something in Engineering? They tend to get good at engineering. That girl who reads voraciously? She tends to get pretty good at reading. And don’t get me started about young people truly devoted to their choir, marching band, baseball team, or speech & debate. 

Booyah. 

Of course, we have almost no control over this going into a new year. And it’s easy to ruin this passion even in the best of them if we’re not careful – which is terrifying. But still we try to nudge and ignite and encourage, right?

Wait – we DO try to fan these embers, YES?! Hello? 

4. They Learn Because They Like The Teacher or Peer Group

Why4I have mixed feelings about this one. 

There are students who find me far more entertaining and caring than my friends and loved ones can fathom, based on what they know of me in my other, supposedly ‘real’ life. Because of this, these students will often attempt things they wouldn’t otherwise try – books out of their comfort zone, writing until their hands hurt, talking through a skill AGAIN so that I can give them full credit. 

They will play school because of all the love and acceptance flying around, just like in those horrible motivational memes and Garfield posters. “They don’t care how much you know…”

At the same time, I worry this won’t transition to the next teacher they get, who may be perfectly adequate, but to whom they don’t feel the same connection. I don’t want them to be good at my class (and let it stop there) – I want them to get better at being learners, no matter what the circumstances or personalities involved. I want them to become better versions of themselves.

I know, I know – but I’m idealistic and delusional that way. Shut up.

5. They Learn Because Of Grades / Fear / Pressure / Rewards

Why5This may begin from above – parents, or even the school system itself – but often becomes internalized. Either way, this is a stress-driven type of learning with little lasting value.

It might be about staying eligible for band or sports or whatever they’re into and like. It’s often about a sense of survival, and ‘getting through’. Sometimes it’s also about college acceptance, parental approval, career success, or other specific stressors – other times it’s more panophobic. They couldn’t say exactly why, but face a consuming terror of veering off the assigned path. 

I did informal surveys of many of my best students last semester, and discovered that these ‘best’ kids in terms of grades, behavior, organization, and personal responsibility, almost universally hated or at least disliked everything about their school day. A few had one teacher or subject they found tolerable, and most had activities or extra-curriculars in which they found fulfillment, but the bulk of each day and long hours into each night were have to, have to, have to.

It was all about the grades. The future. The system. The idea that there would be anything of value to be learned along the way they found… quaint. Of course they resisted being quite so blunt, being the ‘good kids’ and all – you don’t have 104% in every class by proudly slandering the system. 

But learning and loving and new worlds of ideas weren’t really factors. If anything, those would be distractions to winning at the game. 

6. They Learn Because of Long-Term Goals

Why6This one is pretty rare if you eliminate the vague terrors in play above. There are a few, however, who are specifically chasing a degree in veterinary medicine, motorcycle repair, or that study abroad opportunity in Monaco. They press on because they know what they want. 

At least, they think they do – which for our purposes works just as well. 

On the one hand, these kids aren’t necessarily driven by a love of learning… on the other, though, they are at least self-motivated, making the learning they accept as necessary a bit richer and more meaningful. 

7. They Learn Against Their Will

Why7If you torture them enough, confine them in stale rooms and badger them into compliance… 

If you test them repeatedly, then pull their electives, their after school time, their freedom to sit with their friends at lunch, until they pass…

If you manage through attrition to wear away or cripple enough about themselves they’d otherwise find meaningful, strong, beautiful, or useful…

If you constantly elevate those who comply, who understand, who feel and think as we demand, and denigrate those who can’t – or who for whatever reason won’t…

They may eventually give you enough to count as learning. They may remember enough to secure their release from the system. They may even move on to the next round of ‘education’.

But they’ll never forgive you, or the system, or those who participated in the process. You know why?

Because they’ve learned. 

School is Easy

Learning R.E.M.

Donny Osmond

I had a rather sheltered childhood. 

I grew up listening to K-Tel Goofy Greats and Wacky Westerns albums, along with a few Kristy & Jimmy McNichol records and a rather extensive Osmonds collection. For me, “Crazy Horses” was just about as intense as it got. *weeooowwwww* *weeooowwwww*

[[{“fid”:”3863″,”view_mode”:”teaser”,”fields”:{“format”:”teaser”,”alignment”:””},”link_text”:null,”type”:”media”,”field_deltas”:{“7”:{“format”:”teaser”,”alignment”:””}},”attributes”:{“height”:240,”width”:320,”class”:”media-element file-teaser”,”data-delta”:”7″}}]]

Eventually, in a period of angsty rebellion, I turned to local rock radio and discovered Supertramp, Foreigner, and Fleetwood Mac. Once again, I thought I’d peaked in ‘whoah.’ I owned Pink Floyd’s The Wall on vinyl, cassette, and 8-track; to this day can probably sing every line, badly and melodramatically, while waiting for the worms to come.

When the 80’s struck, music got weird. Driving around hearing “Safety Dance” and “She Blinded Me With Science” proved beyond any doubt I lived in an age of wonders and limitless possibilities. MTV introduced me to The Cure, Hunters & Collectors, The Bolshoi, and Mojo Nixon. I was as alternative as an immature, overly-sheltered geek could be without leaving his bedroom in the days before internet.

[[{“type”:”media”,”view_mode”:”media_small”,”fid”:”1302″,”field_deltas”:{“2″:{}},”link_text”:null,”fields”:{},”attributes”:{“height”:240,”width”:320,”class”:”media-image media-element file-media-small”,”data-delta”:”2″}}]]

And then I met Sandra. We worked part-time at the same department store, although she sold ladies’ undergarments while I vacuumed and emptied trash. Sandra was the single coolest most knowledgeable underground alterna-chick I’d ever seen. I wanted more than anything to have some sort of cred with her.

She’d lived on her own for years and frequented the local music scene, while I lived at home and practiced the bass. When she asked what kind of music I liked, I took it as the highest form flattery and perhaps – oh hell, was this some sort of test? An initiation ritual?!

“Um… the Go-Gos, I guess…” (I knew a total of two Go-Gos songs, which I did genuinely like. Mostly, though, they were an all-girl group – not so common then – and I was playing the odds this might work in my favor.)

Early Go-Gos“Yeah!” she said with what seemed to be not-entirely-forced enthusiasm. “I loved them before they were signed. Have you heard their indie stuff?”

I didn’t know there was ‘indie stuff’. 

I later learned that while in this case Sandra was being completely sincere, this basic assertion was a great fallback for discussing any artist in mixed company…

“So, you into Death Cab For Cutie?”

“Sure – although I loved their early stuff better.”

Velvet UndergoundThis could be varied in intensity, depending on what you were going for…

“You like Cold War Kids?”

“Yeah, but they were so much better before the big record deal. Have you heard their indie stuff?”

Or, if you’re feeling particularly feisty…

“Have you heard the latest One Direction?”

“Bah. They were better before they sold out to the machine and signed with that big label. Their indie stuff was awesome.”

Ultimate dis. Automatic indie music cred. 

Sandra’s favorite band was, she insisted, The. Best. Band. Ever. OhmygodseriouslyhowcanyounotLOVEthem?!

Also known as R.E.M.

Needless to say, it was off to the local record store to grab some new cassettes. Life’s Rich Pageant and Fables of the Reconstruction played in my car for two days straight. I was committed.

[[{“fid”:”1304″,”view_mode”:”teaser”,”fields”:{“format”:”teaser”,”alignment”:””},”link_text”:null,”type”:”media”,”field_deltas”:{“5″:{},”8”:{“format”:”teaser”,”alignment”:””}},”attributes”:{“height”:240,”width”:320,”class”:”media-element file-teaser”,”data-delta”:”8″}}]] 

The problem was… I didn’t get it.

At all.

I didn’t hate it – but I didn’t really understand this… this… strange new music

The lyrics never seemed to actually MEAN anything, even on those rare occasions I could tell what the hell Michael Stipe was singing. And I was COMPLETELY lost as to what they were going for musically. I didn’t… I mean… it’s just…

I didn’t really like it very much.

At the same time, I’d never had anyone so worldly, so knowledgeable, so damn cool, take a real interest in my thoughts and opinions about ANY music before. Even my guitar teacher when I was a kid shook his head in patient dismay every time I’d bring a recording of some Shaun Cassidy tune I wanted to learn – and my parents were PAYING him to like me. 

So I listened, and I tried to ‘get it’. Enough to say something intelligent about it to Sandra, at least. 

[[{“type”:”media”,”view_mode”:”media_small”,”fid”:”1311″,”field_deltas”:{“3″:{}},”link_text”:null,”fields”:{},”attributes”:{“height”:240,”width”:320,”class”:”media-image media-element file-media-small”,”data-delta”:”3″}}]]

Eventually I realized there were tracks I liked more than others. I came to accept that they called on a ridiculous variety of emotions, conveyed by strings of words I didn’t fully understand on a literal level – and that this was all apparently quite intentional. 

Go figure. 

And I remember when it registered that some of the most intense tracks were, well… slow. And pretty. But NOT ballads. I didn’t know that was even possible. I thought “slow and pretty” equaled “ballad” by definition. But not here. Not these. 

R.E.M. Cover R.E.M. was writing about strangely familiar experiences in enigmatic ways and with a more complex humanity than I was prepared to understand. They used their words and their instruments very differently from either ‘classic rock’ OR the Osmonds, and it wasn’t easy to get my brain around. 

Partly I simply lacked the exposure and intellect to be easily reached by their art; mostly I lacked the motivation – until other considerations nudged me through. 

I don’t know when it stopped being for Sandra and started being because I genuinely loved it, but it happened. By the time R.E.M. was scoring radio time and having ‘hits’, I was almost developed enough to be mildly disappointed they’d be remembered for “The One I Love” rather than, you know – the cool stuff.

“R.E.M.? Yeah, ‘Stand’ is catchy… fun video – but I really like their older material, before they got popular…” 

[[{“type”:”media”,”view_mode”:”media_small”,”fid”:”1303″,”field_deltas”:{“4″:{}},”link_text”:null,”fields”:{},”attributes”:{“height”:240,”width”:320,”class”:”media-image media-element file-media-small”,”data-delta”:”4″}}]]

There’s nothing wrong with choice, or some degree of autonomy, even for the young and uninformed. And, to be fair, those of us in academia have a reputation for sometimes being a bit… elitist about the things we think are important and the knowledge we consider, well… legit. 

Valuable.  

Essential. 

Worthy.

But even setting pretense aside, SOME STUFF IS BETTER THAN OTHER STUFF. We can debate specifics, but the idea that some history is more essential than other history, some science more useful than other science, etc., isn’t so very controversial, is it?  

Two BooksYou’re welcome to enjoy Twilight, but it’s not great literature. Lord of the Flies IS, even if you don’t fully ‘get it’ or like it right away. The History of Alien Sex-Abduction may be a legitimate topic to pursue, but with all due respect to the History Channel, a basic understanding of the Progressive Era is probably a better use of time and resources. Even math is –

Well, I’m sure math is good, too. Right?

How #amazeballs would it be if we could be Sandras? Validate our students’ understanding of the world, accept their paradigms regarding what is or isn’t worth knowing about it, or pursuing in it, and yet… find non-punitive ways to woo them towards parts of OUR canon as well? The stuff WE KNOW is… bigger? Valuable? Essential? Worthy?

They may need help learning the language of new subjects, the logic of new ideas, but they’re quite capable. I’d like to think they may occasionally discover they like some of it – maybe even want more. 

First, though, we must somehow earn their interest – to persuade them it’s worth the struggle. We must give them a reason to try our R.E.M. – whatever that may be. 

[[{“fid”:”3864″,”view_mode”:”teaser”,”fields”:{“format”:”teaser”,”alignment”:””},”link_text”:null,”type”:”media”,”field_deltas”:{“9”:{“format”:”teaser”,”alignment”:””}},”attributes”:{“height”:240,”width”:320,”class”:”media-element file-teaser”,”data-delta”:”9″}}]]

[[{“type”:”media”,”view_mode”:”media_small”,”fid”:”1305″,”field_deltas”:{“6″:{}},”link_text”:null,”fields”:{},”attributes”:{“height”:240,”width”:320,”class”:”media-image media-element file-media-small”,”data-delta”:”6″}}]]

RELATED POST: #OklaEd ‘King for a Day’ Submission

RELATED POST: Hole In The Wall Education

Wil Wheaton, Aquaman, and Octave Chanute

Wil WheatonWil Wheaton, for those unaware, is best known for his role as ‘Wesley Crusher’ on Star Trek: The Next Generation (1987 – 1994). He was a regular for the first four seasons, then a recurring guest for the final three. 

Every popular show has its haters and its hated, and Wheaton took a lot of flak from fans. He drew disproportionate heat in much the same way as Jar Jar Binks or every WWE Diva except Paige – not only for the character(s), but as proxy for larger issues of quality and awkwardness. 

(It’s odd how much hardcore fandom is defined by virulent loathing of everything done by that which you love. Anyone who’s ever been part of a fan base with an average age higher than 15 knows what I mean.) 

Wheaton's Law

But Wheaton was great as what he was supposed to be – an awkward teenage nerdboy on a starship. He flew the Enterprise ‘D’ during its most heart-stopping encounters with the Borg! It was HIS facial expression when Riker ordered ramming speed that brought – 

Er… what I’m saying is, he did fine. STTNG had its issues, but it was amazing more often than not once it found its footing. 

Wheaton has continued acting and doing voice work, but also writes, blogs, and shares his passions for home-crafted beers and tabletop gaming. A cursory YouTube search will give you a taste of the variety of projects in which he’s involved, and the character he brings to everything he does:

[[{“type”:”media”,”view_mode”:”media_small”,”fid”:”1268″,”attributes”:{“alt”:””,”class”:”media-image”,”typeof”:”foaf:Image”}}]]

Wheaton had every opportunity to become bitter, or burnt out, or messed up like dozens of other ‘child stars’ whose careers don’t end up being all they’d dreamed (although it might be far worse when they do). He has every reason to complain or dysfunct. 

For the most part, however, he just keeps doing his thing, remains gracious towards and about others, and stays a very real version of himself. He works everywhere doing everything, and even has his own ‘law’, like Murphy and Occam. Perhaps most importantly, he was nice to me on hockey Twitter once:

Hockey Twitter

Superfriends

Aquaman I’ve written about before. It appears that newer incarnations of this particular icon are striving for a darker, bad-asser, skater-eyes type Aqua-hero than he up with which I grew. That’s fine, but the Aquaman of which I’m writing here was the ‘also along’ – the borderline misfit. 

Superman would fly off to push the planet’s rotation in the opposite direction while Batman & Robin solved a scientific riddle and fought a few thousand destroyer-bots. Wonder Woman would take her jet to the lair of the Apocalyptic Mastermind and make him tell all while deflecting atom bombs off her bracelets. 

New Aquaman

Even the Wonder Twins and Gleek would capture someone or save something from destruction, taking the form of a gorilla and an ice castle or whatever the #$%& it was they did, exactly.

Aquaman would be sent dramatically underwater, to coordinate some octopi or other sea life and rescue a few ships or somesuch. Fine in and of itself, but usually rather lame compared to the rest of the gang. 

But he did it, sans whining. He didn’t worry about credit, or fairness, or points for style (he wore that horrible orange, for goodness’ sake). He had his role – his skill set – and that was enough.

I confess, I’m not looking forward to dark moody bad-ass Aquaman. It’s like fully armored, locked-and-loaded Gandhi coming to a big screen near you. 

Octave Chanute was a bit of a celebrity in his day as well. He was a wildly successfully engineer who built the Chicago and the Kansas City Stockyards, along with as a number of bridges and other stuff that might not be considered particularly sassy or sexy by Kardashian or Duck Dynasty standards, but were a pretty big deal in the late 19th century. His unfulfilled passion, however, was manned flight.

Octave Chanute FlyerChanute was an innovator who designed a few machines himself, but was too old to strap himself into some bizarre contraption and jump off a cliff. His greatest contribution to the field was his willingness to gather correspondence and information from all around the world regarding the aerial efforts of others. He compiled and edited specialized periodicals, and put people in touch with one another when he thought they might mutually benefit.

In other words, he acted as an internet of sorts for a sparse, oft-maligned, and diverse group of men sharing a similar vision. This ‘internet’ was seriously time and labor-intensive – handwritten with fountain pens and pulp-based white paper (another cutting edge creation of the day) – in lieu of dial-up. 

Octave ChanuteOccasionally he’d organize a dinner, or at least cigars in the den. That, I suppose, was the Skype of the day. 

Chanute sought no credit, sharing freely with anyone interested and expecting others to do the same. He was a huge source of encouragement for two guys most of us HAVE heard of – the Brothers Wright – and the means by which many contemporaries first became aware of the amazing things going on at Kitty Hawk.

Any sci-fi fan knows Wheaton, just as anyone interested in the history of aviation is familiar with Chanute. Aquaman is better known but far more misunderstood, and chances are slim the average non-comic-book-reader could tell you much about him beyond the talking to fish thing.

They are easily dismissed as B-players, also-rans – the proverbial ‘red shirts’ who inevitably beam down with Kirk and Spock but never live long enough to beam back up. They are the Mindys to other people’s Morks. They are the squiggle dash next to the ‘1’ on your keyboard – always there, always assumed, but not… you know… NOT THE ‘1’ OR THE ‘E’.

And I celebrate them. Vigorously.

Not by pumping up their roles or exaggerating their impact – that would merely compound the larger error. And not by tearing down their better-known colleagues – the Patrick Stewarts and Captain Americas of the world do amazing things, and yay for them. 

But by definition most of us will never be Dr. Who, or Wolverine, or Thomas Edison. We can love them and emulate them and buy their merchandise, but let’s not see our options – or the potential of those trusted to our care – as so tragically binary. 

CressidaAbraham Lincoln was a pretty big deal, but so were the Robert Andersons and Joshua Lawrence Chamberlains – not to mention nameless thousands who showed up and did their part. Katniss may be central to ending the Hunger Games and overthrowing President Snow, but without the talent, focus, and drive of Cressida, Messalla, and their ilk, we have an entirely different finale. 

Obviously we never strive for mediocrity, but that’s not what we’re looking at here. We’re looking at people who worked hard, accomplished much, and mattered greatly – all with grace and style. They may stand in the shadows of giants, but they are mighty nonetheless. 

More importantly, they find peace in the roles only they can fill, and refuse to allow the spotlights of others to shape their attitudes or their excellence. 

We could stand to dial back our deification of the Washingtons, the FDRs, maybe even the MLKs. No need to tear them down, but let’s not let them block the entire view.

I think that I, for one, am going to try to do a better job teaching my kids to be Wil Wheaton. Or Aquaman. Or Octave Chanute.

[[{“type”:”media”,”view_mode”:”media_small”,”fid”:”1277″,”attributes”:{“alt”:””,”class”:”media-image”,”typeof”:”foaf:Image”}}]]

RELATED POST – Sam Patch, Part One 

RELATED POST – Sam Patch, Part Two

RELATED POST – I’d Rather Be Aquaman

RELATED POST – Welcome to the Oligarchy: The U.S. Needs a New Mythology (from The Becoming Radical blog)