Truly Powerful People (193)

193.

Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

 

I’ve been thinking a lot about a book Paul Watzlawick co-wrote several years ago called Change. This is one of the few books I’ve read that required me to map the discussion so I could follow and comprehend it. There are plenty of books written beyond my grasp but this one was important enough to evoke my inner cartographer. The book is built upon two theories:

 

  • Group Theory – concerned with what happens within a group.

 

  • Theory of Logical Types – concerned with what happens between groups or systems.

 

The relevant distinction for this post, the thing that brought me back to Change, is that Patti and I are currently focusing our work in education and the education system in America is a fantastic study in Group Theory (no real change is possible). Oh, if only I were interested in pursuing doctorial studies (I’d have to learn to write dense tomes but my status would surely rise). Here are the defining characteristics of Group Theory:

 

a)    Grouping is the basic, necessary element of perception (true enough!)

b)    Altering the order of members within a group brings change-ability in process but invariance in outcome (rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic will not keep the ship from sinking).

c)    A member may act without making a difference: Action does not equal change (this is called “first order change”).

d)    New combinations produce change but the result is still within the group. So nothing really changes.

 

A system is a living thing and will fight to the death to stay intact even if it is irrelevant, archaic, destructive to its members, and serves as the impediment to its stated purpose. Group Theory is the way a system fights to stay alive! It provides the illusion of change, action for the sake of action: First Order Change. Standardized testing is First Order Change. No Child Left Behind is First Order Change. Tying teacher pay to performance is First Order Change. Shuffling a deck of cards is First Order Change, talking about content as separate from method is First Order Change, imagining that the purpose of education is to provide a better batch of consumers or workers for a factory floor that no longer exists is First Order Change.

 

Action does not equal change. Rearranging the order of things within the existing system will continue to bring change-ability in process but invariance in outcome. It will certainly provide the illusion of change for a while, at least until the next election cycle or until the next generation of students dulls their minds enough to survive the system (and learn to say to their kids, “If it was good enough for me, it is good enough for you.”).

 

I wonder what it will take for us to desire more than “good enough.” The world has changed considerably since 1850 (seriously changed, not rearranged); we continue to swap the furniture in the factory and wonder why it is failing in our new world order.

 

I can’t help but use this quote again:

 

“You never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete.”

R. Buckminster Fuller

Truly Powerful People (176)

176.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

Many years ago I ran a theatre company embedded within a school district. I also founded and ran an alternative school program. They had many things in common but this little aspect was critical: little or no janitorial services – partly because of district budgets and mostly by design. Early on I recognized that ownership of the space in which we worked had a direct impact on the quality of our work; if it’s our space it is ours to care for, to clean, to shape, to decorate, to cultivate the culture of what happens in it. It mattered because we mattered. Initially it was a bloody battle to implant the idea: how you treat your space is a reflection of how you treat yourself. When you believe the work you do is important, when you believe that you are important in the work, then your care for the space. When you care for the space you care for yourself. After the first generation it became a tradition. The older students taught the newcomers: it matters how you embody the space, it matters how you embody your life. It was not uncommon to see students sweeping the parking lot prior to a performance: these kids believed that the audience’s experience of their art began when the car pulled into the parking lot. It mattered. It was theirs to do.

Ownership and mattering are easy words to say – it is easy to say values and ethics and generosity. They are more difficult notions to live.

Each morning I walk down the beach. It is littered with the remnants of last night’s party: old pizza boxes (the birds love that), broken bottles and cans litter the walkways. There is always a clean up crew paid for by the city – apparently it is the city’s job to pick up after the citizens.

We are a people who believe it is someone elses job to clean up our mess. There is scant ownership, no sense of mattering in how we treat our spaces and I can’t help but think it is a reflection of how we think of ourselves. Do you matter? Do your actions matter?

Whose job is it to clean up after our party? How would we live life if we knew that our actions mattered – all of them! When you know you have impact you are conscious of your actions and how they effect other people and the places of your life. You are connected. You own it because you own yourself.

I can’t help thinking about those kids sweeping the parking lot. It is an odd image of powerful people but think of it this way: those kids had no doubt that they mattered and they were bringing it 100%. When was the last time you were that powerful?

Truly Powerful People (170)

170.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

There are 3 foundation principles for all forms of the work that I do as The Circle Project with Patti Digh and in my own work as a coach and artist. I reviewed them again this morning in preparation for our September classes:

1) What you think is what you create. The story you tell yourself about yourself is a creative act – it is not happening to you. What you think is what you see is what you create. We talk a lot in the classes and in coaching relationships about where you choose to place your focus: what you choose to see. A great skill for an artist to develop is the capacity to see beyond what they think. There is more color and possibility in the world than your intellect will allow.

2) You are always in choice. Building upon the first principle is the understanding that you are always in choice. You may or may not have any control over the circumstances in your life but you have ultimate control over how you are within your circumstance. One of my favorite practices is to control your control-ables and let the rest go. Most people try to control what they can’t control (for instance, what other people think) and refuse to control what they CAN control (like what they think).

3) You are not broken; nothing needs to be fixed. It is an unfortunate tendency in our self-help world to treat all behavior as pathology, as if something in you is missing or broken. If you work from the basic assumption that you are broken you will forever seek answers that are outside of you. Assume that you are whole; believe that you are the source of your answers. Assume wholeness and your work will be about learning and expansion. Assume wholeness and you will of necessity have to take full responsibility for your choices.

What you think is what you create. You are always in choice. You are not broken. Can you imagine it?

Truly Powerful People (137)

137.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

It is 1984 and I am teaching my first acting class to high school students in a summer theatre program. I am certain that I do not know what I am doing and am more interested in hiding than in confessing my disbelief in myself (I would learn later that great teachers know that they know nothing so there is nothing to hide); I am still under the misguided notion that a teacher should be the answer-man.

I have been preparing for weeks and although I have a degree in acting, although I have just spent a year in an intern program for actors, although I actually have lots of thoughts about what to teach actors, I am still convinced that I know nothing and need to pretend that I know something of value. I have meticulously constructed my first day so that there will be no room for questions (questions are dangerous when you have to be the answer-man). My plan leaves no air for breathing and no chance for uncertainty: control is the driving force and agenda of my plan (education based on the teacher’s needs and not on the student’s needs will always lead to a culture of control).

The students enter the room for the first time and I am immediately thrown out of my plan, knocked off my center, standing naked in barren land of what-do-I-do-now; what I had identified as the beginning point, the zero point, is still too far advanced for my students. Control is no longer the problem; I actually have to begin where they are, not where I assumed they would be – which is to say that I have to start asking questions. I hadn’t considered that their zero was different than my zero. In the first 5 minutes of my first class I was required to say, “I don’t know, let’s find out.” What a gift!

By some divine wisdom I knew enough not to force them down a road of meaninglessness coverage of material based on my need to control their destination. We started where they were. We pursued questions that were relevant for them. We had a blast and everyone learned – especially me.

These are the lessons from my first class – they are life lessons:
• Know nothing.
• You have to be knocked off center to grow.
• You have to be willing to stand in the discomfort; to deny the experience is to protect yourself from learning
• “I don’t know, let’s find out” is the where the juice of life is. It is also the key to great teaching and learning.
• Cultures of control (internal and external) are signs that the essential intention is lost in a jungle of fear. What you are trying to hide is the thing that most needs to be seen.

Pay attention to what you are trying to control; release your grip and you’ll always find the love.

Truly Powerful People (114)

114.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

In Nebraska this summer we named the institute, The Art of Teaching and Learning, and we meant it. It was not a fancy title, not meant to be clever; it was an intention.

Artistry is not something you do; rather, it is a way of being that is defined by the capacity to step into the unknown. That’s a good definition for learning, isn’t it? Teaching when done well is high art. If you were looking for easy answers and manufactured solutions, this was not the place for you. There was no room for transactional thinking. This institute was about the ferocity of inquiry and jumping into the exuberant uncertainty of transformation. It was a form of art called teaching and learning.

On one of final days we led an experience called The Bridge. It involves a lot of chairs and a clear intention. As this group of teachers supported each other to safely cross the chasm, they transformed into a community. Each member mattered. Their actions mattered. Their focus mattered (all false outcomes and standardized blah-blah went out the window, excellent process and relationship cleared their sight and they remembered why they’d become teachers). There was no win or lose, there was only powerful offers and potent learning. They transcended their circumstance and entered a common narrative (a single intention).

How often do we lose our intention in the tall weeds of our circumstance? A community forms when an intention is pure. There is nothing more powerful than a community with a clear intention. They can’t be derailed by circumstance or politics or experts or status because they are in service to the fulfillment of their community and that is not possible if any single member is left behind. Quality process and a focus on relationship trumps test scores and outcomes.

Transformation is never found in the answer, it is always found in how you engage with your questions. This too is a great definition for learning. Just ask the teachers at the institute that rediscovered their artistry. They are clear about what learning is and what it is not.

Truly Powerful People (103)

103.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

Last week Patti and I had an extraordinary week working with educators. Among the many deep pools we explored together, there is one that is troubling to me: the tendency (or is it a bias) to separate life into compartments. These are just a few of the separations I noted: teachers are taught to think of content as separate from method. They are steeped in a tradition that abstracts learning from application, mind from body, and body from spirit. And spirit from any serious consideration (thus, the arts are neutered).

Why?

This is a rhetorical question. I know.

Here’s the big separation, the one that dismembers the entire western world: the notion that doing is separate from being (of course, this is the epicenter of the belief that content can possibly be distinct from method). Is it any wonder that teachers are beleaguered and students are bored and frustrated? As one teacher so aptly noted, “the students are going around us; we are the impediment.”

We are our own impediments. How could it be otherwise when separation is the organizing principle and expectation? I work with people in a variety of circumstances and most, if not all, believe that they are missing a piece of themselves – or perhaps looking for peace anywhere but within themselves. They are searching for something and in the mean time their lives roll by. They are losing this moment hoping that in some distant moment they will achieve…something; presence, completion, peace, unity (add your word here).

Many years ago my friend Roger told me that somewhere in his middle 30’s he realized that he was no longer becoming someone; he was someone. Patti reminded the educators that children are already complete. They are someone. Yes, they are becoming. Yes, they are already whole. Nothing is missing. Nothing needs fixing, nothing needs adding.

Good words to consider: nothing is missing. Nothing needs fixing. Your “doing” can’t possibly be separate from your “being.” Your content can’t possibly be separate from your method. Those cubicles in your mind are…in your mind. They are infinitely removable.

Truly Powerful People (101)

101.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

There is a term I learned in the theatre that I have grown to appreciate the more I work with organizations and the education system. The term is, “save-your-ass-theatre” and applies to plays that have weak or no direction so the actors have no choice but to save their asses.

In a well directed play the actors are in service to something greater than themselves: a specific story that is illuminated through the clear actions of the actors. The actors pursue specific intentions; their focus is on the pursuit of the intention (not on the audience, not on how they appear, not on “being liked”). The honesty of the actor’s pursuit is what opens the door for the audience to participate. My favorite definition of acting is, “the honest pursuit of intention in an imaginary circumstance.” The honesty of the pursuit allows the audience entry to the story.

In a play with weak direction, the actors are unclear of their intentions, less clear of their story, and are in service to not looking stupid. Said another way, they are in service to themselves. They are in front of an audience and do not know what they are doing so they do the only thing they can do, the thing we all do in a dangerous situation: they save themselves. They diminish the other actors, they hide, they upstage, they lie. The audience has no access to the play because the actors are not present, so they, too, pretend that something worthwhile is happening.

When an intention is clear, people are generous in their support for each other. They are in service to the same thing and do not get confused in games of power or territory. When an intention is not clear, people default to survival mode and save their asses.

Systems go awry when they no longer serve the purpose for which they were created – or when the purpose for which they were created is no longer relevant. The public schools are a perfect example. The system was created to produce minimum competency for a world 150 years ago. It is an antique. And, because it no longer knows the story it is telling, brilliant, dedicated teachers are being forced into a production of save-your-ass-theatre because we as a nation have confused passing tests with learning. We blame them because we don’t know what to do (proof positive that we, too, are in a production of save-your-ass-theatre). Brilliant, dedicated students are suffering in a production of save-your-ass-theatre because we as a nation have confused answer-regurgitation with ferocious inquiry.

Learning is not testing. Answer-regurgitation is not inquiry. We can clarify this play when we choose to stop pretending that what is happening on our stage is worthwhile, when we stop denying that our Model-T is the machine that can get us there.

Step Into The Ring With A Teacher

https://i0.wp.com/urbanneighbourhood.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/11/goat.jpeg

image by urbanneighbourhood.com

I have a particular fondness for educators and a distinct dislike of the system in which they work. Despite what you may hear on the news, the vast majority of teachers are heroic. They are deeply dedicated to serving their students in a world that increasingly prohibits them from teaching. Currently, teachers are the scapegoats for an antiquated assembly-line system that was designed in another century to produce workers for an industrial economy (you know, for all those jobs we’ve shipped over seas); it was designed to produce people with a minimum competency. No amount of testing or fixing will make it something other than what it is: out-of-date. Teachers are driving a Model T in a Formula One world. It is madness.

When I call the current system of education outdated or madness, I’m not just slinging hash. Here are two examples of what I mean:

We (Patti and I) recently worked with a group of teachers for a week and a dedicated, intrepid young teacher told us this story: “I work in a district that is 95% free lunch (which means the children attending school are mostly very poor. A proper meal is a primary reason many of the children come to school in the first place). In my community many of the children come to school never having heard of the alphabet. There are no books in their homes and no one has ever read to them. I teach the first grade so one day early in the school year I was teaching the kids the alphabet and my principal came in to observe. Later, he told me that I had to stop teaching the alphabet. I asked him why and he told me that the state standards say that children in the first grade should already know the alphabet – so I needed to do what the standards dictate. He actually told me to stop teaching the alphabet and teach the kids to read. I said, ‘but they don’t yet know the alphabet.’ And he told me that my job was to teach according to the standards and I was not to teach the children the alphabet.”

I wish I were making this up. Madness.

Only in an assembly-line mentality does the notion of standardized tests make sense; in that mentality there are standardized students, standardized communities, and standardized teaching practices (which brings me to story #2…in a moment). Of course, the conversation that we as a nation are NOT having is the one about equitable funding, that is to say, standardized funding for all schools. It is worth noting that the teacher in the story above, out of his meager pay, buys light bulbs for his classroom so that the children to whom he is forbidden to teach the alphabet aren’t sitting in the dark. Now, there’s a metaphor!

Story #2: In the world of assembly-line thinking variance is anathema: it is imperative that all widgets look and act alike. So, removing the teacher from the equation is a top priority. There are now curriculums that require teachers to start lessons at the same moment as the teacher in the next classroom, to speak the same words at the same moment, to turn the pages and deliver the same content using the same language – all at the same moment. No kidding – and that’s not my story. My story is that the media is reporting an alarming drop in creativity; there is a crisis in homegrown innovators. Of course, teachers are catching the blame. Our national response to the reported crisis in creativity is to further hamstring the teachers by removing any capacity for meaningful engagement from the classroom by doing more of what is causing the crisis in the first place.

Patti and I have been hired to work with educators to “infuse” creativity into their curriculums – to teach them how to be more creative. The educators that hire us know that this is madness. They already know that creativity is not something you infuse into anything or anybody – especially in a system that is so clearly averse to variance. These educators are asking us to address a bigger question: how do we keep childrens hearts and minds engaged and vital (and teacher’s hearts and minds, too) in a system that is so dedicated to dulling them? They’re hiring us to help them have the conversation that the politicians, the media, the unions, the text book publishers,…are not having: the system isn’t broken, it is antiquated and the people best qualified to imagine something new are being attacked.

Not only is our current content-driven education system antiquated, it is at odds with what the latest learning theory and brain research suggests: 1) learning is most effective when it is process-driven, and 2) the process is infinitely more effectual when students are self-directed and self-regulating, and 3) The learning is most successful when it has immediate application. This is not new news: empower the learner and you will ensure powerful learning. Said another way, content takes care of itself when the pursuit is real.

In ancient times communities would stand in a circle around a goat and ritually heap blame onto it for all the ills the community had suffered. After purging themselves, they would drive the goat into the desert or they would kill it and eat it (a communion meal). This ritual cleansing was meant to rid them of their bad luck and, more importantly, to absolve them of their sins. A scapegoat is supposed to afford the community an opportunity you start the year with a clean slate. However, outside of a ritual context, a scapegoat serves an entirely different function: it absolves the community from taking responsibility for their participation in what they know to be wrong; it provides an excuse that alleviates self incrimination, self reflection, self direction, self regulation and the possibility of actually doing things differently.

We have known for 40 years that our education system was off the rails. Standing around our teachers and heaping blame upon them is to pretend that there are no other players in this game; it is to pretend that our education nightmare is happening to us and not created by us. The sooner we stop  blaming the teachers and step into the ring with them (and students) the sooner we’ll have the opportunity to design a system of learning appropriate for the 21st century.

Open Your Symbol

Split Gate photo by rishwei

I’m preparing to tell the story of Sisyphus to educators in Hastings, Nebraska. Patti and I are helping them shift their perspective so they might consider some alternatives to the madness in which they find themselves. They, like educators everywhere, are desperate. They find themselves locked in a system that has less and less to do with learning and teaching. It’s no wonder. Our system of education was established in another time for reasons that no longer apply to the world in which we live. What they (we) are experiencing, a hyper emphasis on measurement and assessment is a fairly predictable pattern of behavior: it happens when the world changes, when the demands of a new circumstance collide with an antiquated system. Overemphasizing assessment and measurement is the strategy leaders take when they don’t know what to do; it is an attempt to fix something that isn’t broken (it’s antiquated); it is action for the sake of action in the hopes that something different will happen.  Rolling a rock up a hill in perpetuity would seem to be an apt metaphor.

It’s more apt then you might imagine because the metaphor, when you know the whole story, isn’t about punishment or meaningless action. Like all great stories, Sisyphus is a story about transformation of consciousness. The image of the man rolling the rock up the hill forever is only a horror story if the symbol is read literally (and taken out of context). Sadly, taking a symbol out of context and reading it as a literal “happening” is a symptom of a community that’s lost it’s guide star. Story is the glue that binds and the metaphors within the story provide the commons, the place where all the varying points-of-view can meet. By reducing metaphors to the literal the community closes the door on its capacity to unite and transform. Everything becomes political and economic. As Yeats wrote in The Second Coming, “The center cannot hold.”  The essentials are lost so we test.

In Bali you often pass through a “split gate” when you enter home compounds or temples. They are beautiful, ever present symbols. Two opposing towers that look like a single structure cleaved in two to form a gate. The halves are symbolic of the polarities, an architectural yin and yang reminding the Balinese of the polarities of our existence and the importance of balance in all things. Budi took me to a split gate and said, “The half on the left is the masculine, the half on the right is the feminine.” He asked me to pass through the gate and to turn and look back at him. Once I was on the other side he asked, “Now which is left and which is right? What was left in now right, what was right is now left!” He threw his head back and laughed (Budi has a great mischievous laugh, a broad Cheshire grin), saying, “What is important is that you remember that you must pass between!” He was teaching me about balance, about the middle way. This symbol for balance, this split gate is the metaphor for a life transformed, for how it is to be done.

The split gate and Sisyphus pushing a rock up a hill are the same symbol. If you knew the whole story and were capable of reading your metaphors as metaphors you’d know that the rock was symbolic of the masculine aspect and the hill is symbolic of the feminine. Sisyphus task is to bring into play the masculine rock with the feminine hill. His movement is between the two, which is to say that he lives and loves and labors in the field of dualities, just like me and just like you. The purpose of living is not in the achievement of the task but in the quality of the engagement, the dance between the poles.

When the masculine (objective, quantitative) hijacks the feminine (subjective, qualitative), balance is lost, the center cannot hold, the essential is lost. Which loops us back to education. No amount of measurement, testing, or forced performance standards will bring about the transformation of the system. They remove the teacher from the equation, reduce the child to something standardized and stifle the single, essential aspect necessary for genuine learning: a quality relationship engaged in genuine inquiry. Measurements, in this case, are actions meant to knuckle-down and control, to fix “what is.” That’s why the educators in Hastings are desperate. They know what is needed – especially now – is the kind of wild imaginings that are only possible when we step into unknown territory and create new structures that support learning (systems based on the latest brain science and learning theory – not the 19th century system that we still champion today), something relevant in today’s world.

Sisyphus is one of many stories that can show us the way.