Custom Learning

What Education Can Learn From Regenerative Farming

A teaspoon of healthy soil contains up to 9 billion microorganisms. It’s alive. Absolutely teeming. It’s the most complex ecosystem on the planet that we know of.

We’ve managed to strip it bare. (We’re talking 60 growing seasons of healthy soil left on the planet.)

The plow was a catalyst for the Industrial Revolution. It brought a promise of more efficiency, of greater yield, of faster results. What it also brought was long-term depletion of those microorganism building blocks of life. Traditional farming practices, the regenerative ones that respected the biology of soil, were pushed aside. We were promised increased yields that would feed the world through chemicals, tilling, and technology.

The ground began to quiet. Rich topsoil replaced with dry dirt.

We lost the life in the soil, and with it the resilience.

We see this now with growing urgency in agriculture. What looked efficient on the surface turned out to be unsustainable. Our hubris that we knew better than nature has come at the cost of long-term health. We now see how this depletion of soil is linked to a depletion of our bodily health.

I can’t help but see the parallels happening in education.

Just as industrial farming depleted the microbiome of the soil, the industrial model of education has stripped learning of its life.

We once engaged in learning through biological, relational practices: curiosity, exploration, storytelling, play, and contextual real-world connection.

Then came the plow: standardization, efficiency, control.

Curriculum was boxed.

Learning was fragmented.

Students were batched by age and benchmark.

We traded biology for chemistry and tech.

We replaced the ecosystem with a spreadsheet.

Just like the farmers promised higher yields through Roundup and precision rows, educators were promised better results through testing, pacing guides, and rigid accountability.

There’s only one problem: it hasn’t delivered.

What looks efficient from a policy perspective often leads to shallow roots in practice. We have the appearance of learning, while harming the very conditions that make learning possible.

We till for aesthetics. Neat rows, data dashboards, and report cards, while the ecosystem that supports authentic learning is slowly eroding beneath us.

Biologists will tell you: in any ecosystem, diversity is a sign of health. Monoculture makes a system fragile. Diverse organisms make it robust and resilient.

After 14 years running an inquiry-based school rooted in the individual learner, I’ve seen this firsthand. Diverse thinking. Diverse approaches. Diverse timelines and paths.

It’s not neat. It’s not efficient.

It’s ALIVE.

Compare that with legacy school systems, where the ecosystem has been reduced to a narrow set of standards and single definitions of success. That’s not education. That’s extraction.

I fear that as AI begins to show up in more and more classrooms, that it will accelerate the depletion. We’re dropping it into an already depleted ecosystem.

If we don’t first tend to the health of the learning environment—if we don’t first consider how students are showing up, how teachers are empowered, how culture is formed—then AI just accelerates bad pedagogy. It deepens the rut.

But if we tend to the soil…if we remember the relational, biological, human nature of learning, then AI might be a tool that can support the health.

We have to stop putting our energy into how to get more out of the system. Instead, our energy should go into building a healthy ecosystem to begin with.

Learning, like soil, thrives in relationship, diversity, and proper care.

And when it’s healthy?

It yields something so much better than test scores.

It yields resilient humans. The kind who can navigate complexity. Who know how to learn. Who tend the soil of their own communities. Who are fully alive.

The work ahead isn’t about the next “fix.”

It’s about regeneration.

I’m writing a book about what it looks like when we step out of the box and into a Living Curriculum—sharing what we’ve learned at Anastasis about creating a regenerative ecosystem for learning that begins by honoring each learner. If you are interested in this deeper cultivation work, I hope you’ll subscribe and join the conversation!

|Kelly Tenkely| Crosspost from my Substack

Fast Food Education vs. A Nourishing Education

Fast food gets the job done. It’s quick, efficient, and fills you up.

But the people preparing it don’t know you. They don’t know your dietary needs, aren’t concerned with how well the food nourishes you, or what will sustain you long-term. Their goal isn’t your health.

What happens if that’s all you eat?

At first, it works. You’re fed. But over time, something starts to happen. The very thing that was meant to sustain you begins to harm you. Because it was never actually designed to nourish you- it was designed for speed, efficiency, and mass production.

How often does this model show up in education?

How often do we prioritize efficiency over nourishment? Convenience over connection?

Most schools are still powered by the fast food of curriculum and testing. The system is designed for scale, efficiency, and consistency, not for the unique needs of each learner. It delivers a standardized product that checks the box, but over time, it leaves students lacking any real nourishment they need.

I touched on this idea years ago when I compared education to the McRib. The McRib is a processed, molded imitation of real ribs. It’s shaped to look like something satisfying and fulfilling, but it’s really just a cheapened version of the real thing. Traditional education does the same. It standardizes learning, presses it into a one-size-fits-all mold, and drenches it in artificial flavoring-testing, rigid curriculum, scripted lessons-to make it seem like something substantial.

Only it isn’t.

Real nourishment, in food and education, comes from a place of love.

When you cook for someone, it’s an act of care. It’s intentional. You consider what they like, what they need, what will be good for them now and in the future. You slow down, you taste, you adjust, and you create something that not only fills them but also fuels them.

Education should be like that. It should be deeply relational, where the one preparing the learning experience knows the learner-who they are, what excites them, what supports them, and what they need to grow. It should be an expression of love where the goal isn’t just to get the job done but to truly nourish and sustain a lifelong learner.

At Anastasis, we designed a Living Curriculum, one that moves and breathes with the learners it serves. It’s not a static, prepackaged meal. It’s an ongoing act of care, connection, and responsiveness.

I’ve been working on a book to capture this-how education can be an expression of love. A curriculum that isn’t standardized but alive. One that doesn’t focus on efficiency but on nourishment.

If you’ve ever felt that traditional education isn’t serving students well, if you’ve seen the gaps, the disconnect, the way learning has been processed and packaged to meet standards rather than students, I invite you into this conversation.

Education should be more than checking a box. It should be something that truly feeds the soul.

|Kelly Tenkely|

Naming with Specificity: What do we mean when we say learner-centered?

It seems like every school, curriculum, and educational technology website I visit proudly proclaims to be “learner-centered” or “student-centered.” I’m often disappointed when I can’t find evidence to support that it is learner-centered. Instead, I see systems designed around efficiency for adults, rigid standards, and curricula that dictate every moment of- not around the needs of the a teacher’s day kids in front of them.

When we don’t name with specificity, we tend to care less about it. We pass strangers in cars every day and unless they make us angry or let us cut in, we think nothing of them. But, if we see a friend pass in a car we feel differently.

A spark of recognition, care for them, memories, curiousity about where they might be headed.

Or, consider the differences between animals you see in the wild versus the pet who you name, feed, and sleeps in your house.

We care differently for those whose names and stories we’ve learned.

Caring about “nature” is different from caring about the “Highline Canal.” I walk my dogs on those sun-dappled paths of the Highline Canal.

We have a different level of gratitude and stewardship for the things we name with precision and learn the stories of.

I believe one of the largest issues in education is claiming to be learner-centered without the precision of naming. Those making decisions, writing curricula, or creating the edtech tool are disassociated from the children they are making decisions for. They don’t know the names and stories of children in your classroom. They can’t possibly accurately steward and make decisions for those kids because they’ve never met them.

Learner-centered education has to begin with the learner. Their unique needs, interests, readiness, and humanity. That may seem like an obvious statement but I rarely see this as the starting point. Instead, most claiming learner-centered start in the wrong place and impose predetermined standards, curricula, technologies, or systems.

To be learner-centered is to be deeply relational, focusing on knowing and honoring the learner in front of you, and not just as a student but as a whole person.

In a learner-centered environment:

*The learner’s humanity is prioritized: The physical, emotional, and developmental state of each child shapes the approach, recognizing that learning happens best when students feel seen, safe, and supported.

* Learning is adaptive and responsive: Teachers remain flexible, responding in real-time to the rhythms, needs, and sparks of curiosity that emerge in the classroom.

*Play and curiosity are central: Learning isn’t confined to rigid, preplanned lessons but grows organically from exploration, inquiry, and authentic engagement.

*The Process is valued as much as the product: Instead of focusing solely on outcomes, learner-centered education celebrates the journey of learning- observing how students think, make connections, and grow over time.

*Assessment informs, not defines: Assessment is a tool to understand and support the learner, not a final judgment. It emphasizes growth and feedback over grades or standardized benchmarks (more on this next week).

*The System supports the learner, not the other way around: Structures like class size, schedules, and curriculum flexibility are intentionally designed to serve the needs of students rather than adult convenience.

*Authentic connections matter: Teachers and students co-create the learning experience, with the teacher acting as a guide, partner, and advocate rather than a content delivery authority figure.

At its core, learner-centered education recognizes that every child is different and rejects one-size-fits-all solutions. Instead, it creates the conditions where learners are empowered to show up as their whole selves and grow in their own unique ways.

This week on the Dreams of Education Podcast, Michelle and I unpack what it truly means to honor the humanity of every learner. We’ve touched on this topic before, but it’s one we keep coming back to because it’s at the heart of everything we do. Real learner-centered education goes beyond buzzwords. It’s about intentionally creating spaces where kids can show up exactly as they are and where their readiness, their rhythms, and their needs guide the learning, not the other way around.

This is the reason we started Anastasis. We wanted to create a space where kids are seen, known, and loved. We wanted to start with the learner and build out from there. We’ve seen first-hand what starting with the learner looks like. It isn’t easy. It requires flexibility, vulnerability, and a willingness to let go of control.

Learning is a deeply human act. It’s messy, relational, and full of moments that can’t be captured by a worksheet or measured by an algorithm. That’s why we’re so passionate about keeping the humanity in education and pushing back against the systems and tools that prioritize efficiency over kids.

The next time something is sold as learner or student-centered, I encourage you to pause and consider if it truly starts with the learner. Some questions we find useful:

*Does this tool/technology/practice begin with the unique learner?

*How does this tool/technology/practice activate the potential of this learner?

*How does this tool/technology/practice help me respond to the unique student’s needs and what is happening in the classroom today?

*How does this tool/technology/practice create the enabling conditions for students to bring their whole selves to the learning?

*How might this tool/technology/practice help us co-create the learning experience with the learner?

I love this quote from Stephen Harris of LearnLife: “A personal learning mindset aims to enable stronger agency and self-awareness as learners and the ability to generate their own learning pathway now and in the future.”

If you’ve ever wondered what it really means to be learner-centered, or if you’re frustrated by the disconnect between the rhetoric and the reality in education, this episode is for you. Michelle and I dig into the challenges, the joys, and the unexpected beauty that comes from putting kids at the center of their own learning. Listen here.

Less Compliance, More Meaningful Connection

I think all the time about how many kids hop into their cars at the end of the school day, and when asked, “What did you do at school today?” respond with a shrug and, “Nothing.”

The thing is, in many cases, they aren’t wrong. In classrooms bound by one-size-fits-all curricula, many kids aren’t doing anything meaningful to them. What did they learn? Another shrug.

As a technology integration specialist, I spent a lot of time working with curricula. What I saw (and experienced firsthand when I was a student) was that much of what students spend time on in schools doesn’t actually engage their brains. Tasks can often be completed mindlessly, without requiring any real thought or connection.

I’ll never forget the day I became fully disenchanted with the reading curriculum we were using. Students filed into my classroom, looking tired, bored, and disconnected. When I asked what was going on, they all groaned about how boring their reading assignment was. Some were frustrated that the accompanying packet of work was taking forever. Curious, I asked what they were reading.

“Charlotte’s Web. It’s so boring!”

I was shocked. How could they not love Charlotte’s Web? I adored it as a student and again as a teacher.

“Wait, you don’t like Charlotte’s Web?!” I asked, genuinely surprised. The collective groans were loud and clear.

“How far into it are you?”

Blank stares.

“I think we finished it?” one student guessed.

They didn’t even know if they’d finished the book.

I was baffled. These students had a phenomenal teacher—a master teacher I admired and learned so much from. She was well-loved by her students. So why were they so disengaged from this classic?

Later, as I was reviewing the curriculum, I understood the disconnect. The students hadn’t actually read the book. They’d been dropped into Chapter 3 with no context of the story or its characters. Their task for the week was to read this isolated chapter (multiple times with some close-reading exercises), answer a list of comprehension questions, memorize spelling words pulled from the excerpt, and complete sentences missing punctuation.

It’s no wonder they weren’t interested and had such distaste for Charlotte’s Web. They had no connection to the story.

Back to the car: they were truthful when they said they did “nothing.” Nothing was gained from that experience beyond compliance in finishing the task.

That moment stayed with me. It solidified my belief that when it comes to teaching reading and writing, it has to have meaning. It has to have context. Otherwise, what’s the point? Reading and writing are opportunities to make meaning, to understand our own thoughts, feelings, and desires, and to step into someone else’s perspective and imagination.

In our efforts to make education more efficient, we’ve stripped out the very things that give learning meaning.

At Anastasis Academy, we were committed to helping kids fall in love with reading and writing. That meant ensuring every reading and writing experience had context, meaning, and an audience beyond the teacher. We wanted reading and writing to be about connection—connection to ideas, to others, and to the larger world.

On today’s Dreams of Education podcast, Michelle and I dive into what reading and writing looked like at Anastasis. We share how we brought meaning back to these essential skills and how we helped students discover the joy of authentic learning in a living curriculum.

Embracing Inquiry: The Power of a Living Curriculum
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Anastasis Domino Museum, How We Got to Now

At Anastasis, I began referring to our curriculum as a “Living Curriculum.” In a living curriculum, lesson planning is more of a prototype/storyboard than a rigid outline. We have a loose plan of what we think will happen within an inquiry block, but then we meet the learning as it unfolds. It’s a dynamic, organic process that changes based on the individual student and community’s engagement.

Together, we ask: What’s lighting us up? Where are we making connections? How do our individual passions, histories, experiences, and worldviews intersect with the inquiry?

In this Living Curriculum, learning is contextual and fully immersive, helping kids see connections between it, themselves, and the world. The students lived experiences are invited into inquiry, enriching everyone’s learning. Their voices collide in unexpected, wonderful, and important ways. Students get to bring all of themselves to the inquiry, making the learning alive with possibilities. At Anastasis, our Living Curriculum was always adapting, meeting, evolving, growing, and connecting.

Compare this to most curriculum, which demands a fixed approach. Traditional curriculum lacks room to meet students in the moment they are in because it’s hemmed in by time constraints, fixed lessons, and rigid standards. It treats knowledge as something to be “covered” within a limited timeframe, after which the opportunity to explore it may not return. This is a poor proxy for learning.

An inquiry-based, Living Curriculum, is improv with students, colleagues, and the world. It’s a “yes and” stance in relationship to the learning. It continuously invites new voices and perspectives, asking questions and broadening understanding rather than narrowing it down to a collection of answers to be memorized. It calls for ever-deepening understandings and invites reflection and action. The action is not teacher or test-focused; instead, this bias towards action emerges from students’ critical thinking, questioning, and problem-solving.

If we’re honest, we often start in the wrong place in education. We’ve been conditioned to begin with a curriculum and a mountain of content, breaking it into semester-sized chunks. This approach forgets two critical components: the individual student and real learning.

Our goal at Anastasis wasn’t “success” in the traditional sense but rather a commitment to the learner and the learning. We made “learner-centered” our default through inquiry. In this week’s Dreams of Education Podcast, Michelle and I talk about the origin and evolution of inquiry-based learning at Anastasis. We share a few of our favorite stories of how inquiry unfolded in our classrooms and how we fostered a culture of curiosity, collaboration, and the ability to make real-world connections.

Beginning at Zero: How Constraints Fueled Our Creativity

When we started Anastasis, we started at Zero. As in zero funding, zero purchased curriculum, zero furniture, and zero manipulatives. Yet, in my optimism, I believed we could be scrappy, resourceful, and still create an educational environment that truly saw and honored the learners we were teaching. Starting from zero taught us an important lesson: many of the traditional items found in a classroom aren’t as necessary as we might think. In fact, they can often hinder learning because they are so purpose-specific, designed to make teachers spend money rather than serve learners.

In those early days, we leased some classroom space from a church. This seemed ideal because churches sit empty for so much of the week. This arrangement worked well except for one challenging detail: the church required us to vacate the space completely twice a week. They were adamant that the church should not feel like a school. So, everything we had was on wheels, and twice a week, we wheeled it all to a big storage area across from the classrooms. When you have to move things that way, you get really clear about what you need. Space has been sacred to us for this reason, though we’ve found ways to “Tetris” more in our storage spaces over the years. These constraints we had acted as creative abundance to see things in the light of what is possible. 

One of the most beautiful aspects of inquiry-based learning is that you can introduce materials and resources as needed. We discovered that more than anything, it was the culture that we created and the space we held for the learning to happen that mattered most. This isn’t anything we could purchase. The intentionality of culture and space was inextricably infused into everything we did and made inquiry-based learning possible.

At Anastasis, our culture begins with the learner. Always. While many schools claim to be student-centered, I’ve found that few live in a way that’s truly congruent with that statement. When we say that we are learner-centered, it’s because we intentionally started with a blank slate. We didn’t begin by purchasing curriculum (or creating curriculum), we didn’t start with an assessment system, we didn’t start with a list of school rules. We started by intentionally getting to know the learners in our care, and then we built outward. Every decsion we made after that- our curriculum, our rules, our approach to assessment- was a response to the learners’ needs. This process of inquiry-based learning is, at its core, human-centered design.

To honor our learners as whole people, we realized we also had to honor our staff as whole people. In our first year, professional development didn’t look like typical PD (let’s be honest, our PD never looked typical!). More often than not, it happened over food and drinks at happy hour. One thing I was adamant about that first year was new job titles. It didn’t make sense to start from zero with everything else and not also rethink job titles. “Teacher” felt too generic and didn’t capture who we were as individuals. “Admin” or “Principal” didn’t work either. Every year, Anastasis staff go through the exercise of crafting new job titles. It’s a way to personalize, encourage self-reflection, connect us to our unique gifts, and help us see each other as whole people.

This process of creating new titles fosters vulnerability and empathy. It removes hierarchy and helps us realize that we belong to each other. It was important for us to model this for our students so they could live in a community that values empathy, champions others, and encourages curiosity over judgment. If we wanted kids to experience this kind of culture, it had to start with the staff.

In this week’s Dreams of Education Podcast, Michelle and I talk about the humble beginnings of starting at Zero. We dive into some of the challenges and successes of that first year. I own some of my best terrible ideas, and we also reflect on the difficulties kids face when confronted with freedom in learning. We hope that sharing our stories inspires you to see your educational atmosphere’s constraints as opportunities for creative abundance.

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Lessons in the Pause

In my schooling, I was taught to focus on neat, tidy answers. Memorize enough of them, and I was told I’d be “successful.” School primarily focused on developing my brain, and from it, I learned some unrealistic lessons. Implicit in the system was the belief that there’s a right way to do things and a wrong way. I was led to believe that following the rules would keep me safe, make me successful, and ensure that I wouldn’t fail—that I would end up exactly where I was supposed to go.

It turns out those messages don’t really reflect what life is like.

If you read my last post, you know that this past school year was one of the hardest we’ve faced. It seemed that everything that could go wrong did so spectacularly. There were no neat or tidy answers. There was no “right” path to guarantee success. As Scott Belsky points out in his book The Messy Middle, “Success is misattributed to the moments we wish to remember rather than those we choose to forget.” Last year is one I would choose to forget. Yet, with a little distance, I can now see the gift it’s offering: the space to reflect, dream in new directions, and share.

Looking back at my blog posts from that time, I can see that at 28, I had a deep sense of urgency. Kids don’t have the luxury of time for adults to “figure it out”—they keep growing. Ultimately, I saw myself as implicated in doing something. To take the first steps and make any change I could, even if it couldn’t happen all at once.

With that passionate belief that things could be better, we took the first steps toward transforming learning. With a handful of blog posts, a group of rebels with a cause, the cheerleading support of a personal learning network, and the wireframe of The Learning Genome Project technology that we believed could help, we started a school. We’ve learned so much in the last 14 years. What started from humble beginnings has shaped something I’m deeply proud of.

Anastasis isn’t open this year. We are choosing to see this year as a “pause” while we work on finding our next home. In this time of pause, I’ve been reflecting on all that we’ve learned and considering how we can offer those insights to others. My hope is that we can mine the insights we’ve gained over the last 14 years—tell the stories of what went right, but also share the lessons learned when things went spectacularly wrong.

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned from starting a school is that everything begins with awareness. First, you have to notice what you didn’t see before or what you took for granted. Starting Anastasis taught us to live in the questions, to remain curious. This mindset of curiosity is how change happens. We start to see what we didn’t see before, and gradually, we make adjustments and designs around those observations.

There is no better time for us to return to this lesson of awareness—to notice, live in the questions, and stay curious, even as it feels like things are falling apart. I don’t want to forget the lessons we’ve learned and the lessons we are continuing to learn in this present moment.

In that spirit, we’ve decided to start a podcast: Dreams of Education, hosted by myself and Michelle Baldwin, who has been with me every step of the way. Through this podcast, we’ll capture and share the stories of our school design, inquiry, reflection, design thinking, and thought experiments. And we invite you to engage in your own journey of noticing and curiosity.

What do you feel obligated to do on behalf of the kids in your life? What small steps can you take to make a change? Maybe it’s as simple as getting to know your learners as individuals.

“In the end, all of us are best known by the questions that keep us up at night and wake us up in the morning. What should the world be like?” – Steven Garber

The Myth of Learning Loss

Over the course of the last year, there have been numerous articles and news stories speculating on the “Learning Loss” that will result from this pandemic. I’ve noticed the fear in both parent and education groups as well; all are asking the same questions: what toll will this take on learning? What will be the learning loss? Did the last year cause lasting damage to our youth?

As I read through these white papers, articles, and posts, I see the fear. I see curriculum companies rushing to the rescue with remedial remedies, parents clamor for a summer full of tutoring, and teachers debating the best way to catch kids up in the next school year. I wonder if the fear is causing us to rush for answers responding to the wrong question? 

Learning loss is a construct that only exists within the education framework focused on a scripted curriculum where learning happens in a predetermined way at a predetermined time and has standardized test goals and outcomes. It’s easy to become obsessed with the wrong outcomes without questioning if this is even the right goal. It strikes me that in most of the conversations around learning loss, the focus is finite, the short-term impact on the test score rather than the infinite, the long-term growth and learning. It seems that scarcity is the animating energy of the “Learning Loss” conversation. Students within a finite education system where the score is the desired outcome may have the appearance of learning loss because they are compared to an unmoving goal that doesn’t recognize things like personal development, the impact of trauma, or a pandemic. The rigidity of such a system of education cannot work in a world that is in a constant state of change. The Covid-19 pandemic acted as a prophet, revealing what was inherently broken in astonishing detail. 

Learning loss is not a concept within a framework where the learner is at the center of a living curriculum. Learning loss can only exist in a system that never started with the learner at the center to begin with. Within a living curriculum, the learning meets students where they are. Learning is a process, not an event. Abundance is the animating energy of a living curriculum. It is always asking, inviting, growing, and adapting to the changing world and the changing learner. A living curriculum ensures that we are meeting students in this movement of time. It puts the learner in the place of being an active participant in learning and not a passive consumer. It tells students that they matter, that all of what they are experiencing in their lives can be part of their learning experience. If we are to prepare children for life outside the classroom fully, their education has to be more living, a moving river rather than a stagnant pool. Every day is a brand new opportunity to meet the student where they are. 

So, back to the beginning, are we asking the right questions? Let’s take a closer look at the assumptions inherent in the “learning loss” conversation:

  • Assumption 1: learning equates to how much of the curriculum we were able to get through this year compared to previous years.
  • Assumption 2: seat time and passing tests are accurate measures of learning.
  • Assumption 3: Correct responses reveal learning gain, and incorrect responses indicate a learning loss.
  • Assumption 4: what has been lost will show up on a test when comparing it to aggregate data of previous years.

As education researcher Alfie Kohn points out, “But as numerous analyses have shown, standardized tests are not just imperfect indicators; they measure what matters least about teaching and learning.” 

We know that coverage of curriculum does not equate to learning. Test scores are not proof of learning; as friend and author George Couros states, “If you can write in a report card that a student can do something in October that they can’t do in January, is that report card still relevant?” 

I worry that too many schools won’t know the individual child well enough even to begin to identify and address “learning loss.” Aggregate data comparisons to previous years can’t possibly tell the story of who a child is and what they need today.

At Anastasis, we’ve worked hard to ensure that every child is the center of a living curriculum, and their growth forward is the goal. We meet them wherever they are and keep them moving forward, not just this year, every year. Knowing each child well means that we can take advantage of the untestable, newly learned skills that were also part of this year. The adaptability, resilience, problem-solving, new modes of communication, scheduling, and technology skills can become part of their forward momentum and growth. The learning journey at Anastasis continues as one of abundance. 

“The principle goal of education in the schools should be creating men and women who are capable of doing new things, not simply repeating what other generations have done.” -Jean Piaget

Cross Posted at https://anastasisacademy.com

Here’s to throwing our hat over the wall…

There is this story, attributed to JFK’s grandfather, that as a boy, he and his friends would walk along a stone wall in Ireland on their way home from school and, as kids do, they dared him to climb over the wall. The wall was tall, formidable, and scary. He decided that the only way he could guarantee completing this challenge was to throw his hat over the wall so that he would have no choice but to go after it. The hat was part of his school uniform, and he couldn’t go home without it.

We are in a throw your hat over the wall moment.

The COVID-19 pandemic has reminded us that we are all capable of massive change in the short term. Nearly overnight, we went from our usual way of life, to teaching and learning online, working from home, social distancing, wearing masks in public, grocery shopping differently, and adapting to a new way of life. Eight weeks into this pandemic and we see that we are capable of really significant pivots.

So often in education, I hear how resistant some educators are to change. If this moment is teaching us anything, it’s that we are capable of throwing our hat over the wall. Teachers all over the world have done this. How can we capitalize on this moment? How can we define a new normal with new priorities? How can we involve students in the re-imagination?

What we choose to do next matters, we can double down on our efforts to keep the broken status quo, or we can use the opportunity to re-imagine our system.

Who and what will we choose to support? Kids, families, and teachers? Or curriculum companies, tests, and bureaucracies?

There’s nothing sacred about spelling tests as a way to learn spelling, flash cards to learn math facts, curriculum as a way to teach, testing as a way to collect data. There’s nothing sacred about most of what we do every day in education, and yet we hold tightly to these institutions as we make decisions about what school will look like. These constructs have been put into place to accomplish certain goals; namely to get kids to pass a test, have a certain GPA, and go to college.

When we consider how to do education better, how to make it more equitable, more meaningful, we often do so from the vantage point of old constructs.

As if they are sacred.

As if they are worth preserving.

This is an opportunity to engage in design thinking that will forever transform our schools. Where does this design thinking begin? With empathy. With what is actually sacred: the students.

This moment in time has reminded me how essential this step is (unfortunately, it’s one we regularly leapfrog in education). Who are our students as individuals? Who are their families?

When we refocus our organizing principals around the actual students in our care, when we begin from a place of empathy we can anticipate meaningful changes in our education system. Post pandemic I hope that education doesn’t look the same. I hope that we have taken a step back and hung question marks on the things we take for granted.

What might starting with the student (empathy) look like?

*Class sizes will be smaller. Part of this will be out of health necessity, but I hope the bigger driver of this decision is that we’ve considered the individual student first. With small class sizes, we can offer dynamic, student-focused learning that is tailored to the learner rather than the static curriculum currently being spoon-fed.

*Curriculum will be dynamic and living. We’ll focus less on what content has been covered and focus more on critical thinking, problem solving, discernment, research, and creative expression. Curriculum will meet students where they are rather than demand everyone be in the same place.

*We’ll step away from siloed subjects and engage students in inquiry. We’ll consider that students live in a world that’s subjectless and ask that learning be immersive. We’ll recognize that financial literacy, digital literacy, and statistical literacy are vital.

*We’ll remember that learning is so much bigger and more beautiful than the meaningless data battles we’ve insisted on in the past. What was one of the first things to go amid pandemic? Standardized testing. Students will be better off as a result. Learning isn’t about the data we collect, or how much content was memorized. Learning is immersive and relational. Assessment practices will be for the student. We’ll return to the Greek root of the word assessment (asidere) to sit beside. Assessment will be used to guide learning and as a way for students to self reflect.

*I’ve seen many politicians, parents, and educators voice concerns about students being behind in learning as a result of the pandemic. Should they repeat the grade level? What will we do to catch them up? The pandemic is shining a light on a problem that’s been true the whole time. Students have ALWAYS developed at different rates and in their own time. Nothing about this moment is actually unusual. What is different is that we have a spotlight on the inherent flaws in our systemized one-size-fits-all approach to education that promotes kids to the next level because of their age. What a wonderful opportunity to completely lose grade levels as a way of advancement and instead, let every student advance as they are developmentally ready. How do we organize classrooms? Based on social/emotional maturation. Who is their peer group? Who can they be vulnerable in learning with?

* We are being reminded that social-emotional literacy isn’t something to tack on to school policies or a curriculum, rather it’s the life force within the system. After physical needs are met, emotional needs are very next in the pyramid that makes it possible to learn. When students come back to the classroom, we will be met with complex emotions and unique forms of trauma. We’ll find ourselves in charge of these wonderful, fearful, joyful, exuberant, grief-stricken, complicated, anxious, lovely, overwhelmed children. This has always been the case but, I suspect as we return to school, we are going to be met with the complexity that all of these emotions can exist simultaneously. We’ll be more acutely aware of them. Kids and families will be looking to educators for help, stability, and understanding. How will we meet them? How will we commit to navigating this together? We need to know our students (empathy) and their families well so that we can meet their unique needs. Educators know it’s never been about just teaching kids. As educators we are connected to every single part of society. How families eat, work, access heath care, are supported in mental health, the jobs they hold. All of humanity intersects in the classroom and it impacts how we do what we do in the classroom. This pandemic has given us more awareness of this reality than ever before as educators scramble to fill the gaps that society generally overlooks because “someone” is taking care of it. The way that this crisis impacts society is going to impact our classrooms and the learning available on any given day as we navigate base physical and emotional needs that haven’t been met. The only reasonable response is to begin with empathy. We will need to be stronger advocates than ever before and we’ll have to consider the whole child in every decision made.

Here’s to throwing our hat over the wall. Here’s to remembering who is sacred in education and designing around them.

Summer Dreams: A glimpse into inquiry-based learning

Every summer has the same rhythm for me. Most days consist of reading (also known as feeding my soul) and planning for the upcoming school year. Though I truly enjoy every season in Colorado, the rhythm of summer is my favorite. It gives me time to dream and to prepare for the upcoming year. Summer for me is an indicator of space. Space to take deep breaths, to learn from others, and to iterate and dream.

Anastasis is a school without curriculum; by that, I mean that we don’t purchase a curriculum from a big publishing company. I haven’t found a curriculum that knows our students (with names) the way that my teachers know our students (with names). They don’t know our students the way I know our students. Summer is the time that I build a framework for Anastasis teachers. An inquiry guide. Inquiry is the philosophy that drives learning at Anastasis. I love inquiry because it is a natural differentiator. Within an inquiry philosophy, students meet the learning where they are. Inquiry is a transformational, life-changing framework. It’s one that empowers kids.

12 years ago (with a lot of help from my PLN, blogger alliance friends) I learned about, and fell in love with, the International Baccalaureates PYP Framework. Through blogs, Twitter conversations, and the Reform Symposium Conference, I got a behind the scenes look at inquiry within the PYP happening in countries and classrooms around the world. There are six themes within the framework: Who We Are, Where We Are in Place and Time, How We Express Ourselves, How the World Works, How We Organize Ourselves, and Sharing the Planet. I have yet to find any learning under the sun that doesn’t fit into one of these six categories. We use this framework at Anastasis as our launching point. In the summer, I choose a lens for our Primary, Intermediate, and Jr. High students to explore each inquiry Framework.

This is the time when I get to dream. My dreaming takes shape as a lens, a question, several lines of inquiry, and some provocations that teachers and students might dig into. These dreams and frameworks turn into absolute masterpieces when my teachers and students get ahold of them. Each of us comes with our own history, our own worldview, our own experiences, our own connections, each of us knows our students (with names). And this makes the “curriculum” richer. The true beauty of inquiry is the way that it grows and meets everyone who interacts with it.

As I dreamed up the Where We Are in Place and Time block, I came with my own background and ideas. When my teachers and students got ahold of it? MAGIC!

Here are the lenses I offered:

Primary: Children in the past live differently than we do today. (Within this I shared some lines of inquiry including: how has school changed over time, what kinds of games did your parents play as kids, how has transportation changed over time (how did this impact exploration and migration), how has food and access to food and food technology changed over time, what has been the impact of invention over time, how has technology changed over time, what is a timeline, how did migration and exploration change how children in the past lived, and how has literature and books children read change over time?)

Intermediate: People migrate with different reasons and with wide-ranging effects. (Within this, some of the lines of inquiry included: what are the reasons people migrate, what is the emotional impact of migration, what are the effects of emigration and immigration, what is manifest destiny, what is the Oregon Trail, what human circumstances and challenges lead to migration, what is the history of migration, how has transportation throughout time impacted migration, what is the cultural impact of migration, what is the governments role in migration?)

Jr. High: Migration happens for a variety of reasons. (The lines of inquiry included: what is the history of migration, what are the reasons for migration, what is the impact of migration-to the areas being left and the areas where relocation takes place, what are the hardships and successes of migration, how did transportation impact migration, how does perspective impact migration, what is the cultural impact of migration, what is the government’s role in migration, what is the emotional impact of migration, what are the effects of emigration and immigration?)

Watching this inquiry block unfold in real time as teachers and students engage it, I’m again reminded of the beauty of inquiry.

Anastasis Academy inquiry immigration

Our Primary students just got to experience an immigration day. After reading, “Ellis Island-a History in Many Voices” by Louise Peacock and exploring immigration through books, videos, and discussions, students experienced their own Immigration Day. Our incredible primary teachers had students dress as immigrants coming to America for the first time. Each received a country of origin and mini backstory. Each created and packed a suitcase filled with the items they would choose to bring with them on a long journey. Each item lovingly considered and included in the small case they were allowed to bring aboard the “ship.” Students were divided into classes on the ship. First class got the best seats, on top of the table, second and third class on the deck below, under the table. Each student received a passport and papers they would need to keep with them. Students had five different stops when they arrived to “Ellis Island:” Medical, Information, Baggage, Passport, and Interview. They were examined by a nurse and doctor, eyes, ears, throat, and skin checked. At the information room, students had to fill out a form which included information from their passports and questions regarding their life in America. Students were interviewed by officials, asked questions about their plans and intent in America. How would they earn money? Where did they plan to live? At each room, if our student immigrants were approved, they would receive a stamp in their passport and sent to the next room. Each of the five items that the students packed in their suitcase was closely inspected with questions about why they chose those items. Students watched, Coming to America by Neil Diamond. Pictures were taken for passports and a new identity, and nationality were granted. Each student created a reflective journal about their journey to America with illustrations.

Inquiry is immersive. Students get to experience their learning.

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Our Intermediate and Jr. High students have had the opportunity to experience their learning during this block in different ways. Our intermediate students visited 4 Mile Historic Park where they stepped into the past and saw the world through their ancestor’s eyes. One of our Anastasis teachers immigrated to America from South Africa. She shared her long immigration journey with students including the absolute joy at being declared a US citizen. Next, our students heard from a parent who is considered an illegal immigrant, though he has lived in the United States since he was two years old. He was able to share his experiences with the immigration process in America. Colorado refugee students joined our students for an afternoon of learning, soccer, dancing, and lunch. Anastasis students had the opportunity to hear their stories of fleeing a country and finding refuge in the US, as well as connect with them through play. This week our Jr. High students tutored refugee students in English and Math at their home school. In the coming weeks, these students will visit the Mango House (a non-profit that provides services to refugees) and attend a citizenship ceremony.

Inquiry is so much bigger than a curriculum guide. It’s about connecting students with stories and growing their awareness. It’s about seeing people. Inquiry is immersive learning. This is bigger than a worksheet or a research paper. This learning is absolutely transformational.

Take a look at some of our student reflections after the immigration stories:

We often don’t understand the circumstances in our world until we experience them. As we listened to the two people talk today, I realized how much sympathy we need for people that are immigrating to our country. As Miguel said, “The sun rises for everyone.” It really struck me how much joy we can find if we try to. We are often so doted on and spoiled that we expect the joy to come to us. Though sometimes we need to go out and change our perspective. My biggest shock today was how happy these two people were despite their trials. I hope I can apply their outlook on life in my own journey. -Anastasis Student
Everyone wants to see the sun but the sun rises for everyone, you just have to look for it. When people see an immigrant, they think “criminal, illegal, job stealer”, they don’t think, “person, mother, father, sister, brother.” People don’t like people who are different from them, but if everyone were the same, we would end up with a society like The Giver. You cannot judge a book by a cover; you cannot judge an immigrant without knowing their story. – Anastasis Student
I have traveled the lands and witnessed the world unfold. I’ve seen God, in seminaries and in the ground we stand on. I’ve been on an odyssey, a grand tour of our world, yet I see the light covered by darkness. I watch as two sides fight, spewing lies and frustration, placing more cement over the towering wall, looking down at us. Both sides making one massive monster, in the shape of a barrier. Now the wall has become a lens, now we face the beast. -Anastasis Student
How can you say it? How can you think it? How can you be against it without knowing it? “You have to go through hell to get here.” Immigrants are people who go through hell. The hell they face isn’t just because of the long journey. It is because of the rejection, the unfairness, and so much more that I would not be able to imagine. But, “the sun rises for everyone” (Miguel). Life will get better. With a positive attitude, a goal, and faith, the sun will rise. -Anastasis Student
It was amazing to hear the stories of Mrs. Fun and Miguel. They both have amazing stories and some things that would be very frustrating. It is not so easy to migrate like how some people say. “You have to go to hell to get to America.” Sometimes you just have to walk in their shoes and see what people have to go through to get here. It was good to see the long hard journey to become a legal citizen and the other side of seeing the troubles of trying to help your family while also worrying about becoming a legal citizen. People just have to see what people have to go through to come to this amazing country. It is easy to just say that people should come here the legal way, but we don’t realize the long, hard, expensive journey that it actually is. -Anastasis Academy
God always has the right path for you. You have to be passionate even if you think you were left behind because God has a wonderful plan for you that will come in due time. “The sun rises for everyone.” (Miguel).  It took Mrs. Van De Vyver 15 years to become a U.S citizen, and Miguel is still trying to become a citizen after 25 years. Today I was inspired to always keep a good attitude and keep a smile on my face. -Anastasis Student
There’s a long road ahead for the destination we sit comfortably in. Year after years and the road continues. 20-year journey and still the road goes on. “The sun rises for everyone” ( Miguel). Soon you will be able to travel with joy and comfort. Though one person can succeed, there are many more still walking on something they wish to be an odyssey. The dreams sit sweetly in their minds with a hint of opportunity. Let your mind soak in this perspective and live with a new lens. -Anastasis Student
Without the mountain, there is no summit. I sit on a hill watching the sunset over the horizon. If only the sun could last forever, I thought. But of course the light doesn’t last, but neither does the dark. Instead a perfect balance is created. This is the balance that holds the knowledge of the world. Without this balance, the world is broken, and the cycle of the earth will cease causing life its self to fall out of our grasp like sand. But here and now is the present and so here I will dwell shouting praise to God atop the mountain because God is the father of life. And life is in the present. This is why darkness was created.  -Anastasis Student
You guys!!! These are 11-13-year-olds reflecting on a shared experience of exploration, story, and seeing people. Show me what textbook can produce this kind of empathy, this level of understanding.
I thought about waiting to post this until after the final experiences with the Mango House and the citizenship ceremony, but honestly, I was too eager to share this hope.
This process of inquiry isn’t always neat and tidy. As principal dreaming in the summer, I often don’t know exactly what it will look like. It’s the result of passionate teachers, our amazing field trip coordinator, and students who keep pushing into learning they are immersed in.
Inquiry is immersive. It’s about story. It’s about connection. It’s about awareness. Inquiry is where the real learning is.