Humanizing the Education Machine. Cahill Brian

course, I was already very busy in my career. So I began expressing my reservations. But within 10 minutes I changed from feeling defensive about to being skeptical of to expressing full support of the idea. Lisa showed me how home schooling was not only the perfect fit for Caleb but it would also draw upon both our unique gifts and interests.

      When we asked Caleb to pick a musical instrument as part of his education, he started playing around on our 15-year-old keyboard. With initial instruction from Lisa, he soon fell in love with music, films, and film score composition.

      Over time, Lisa and I watched Caleb step into what author Dan Pink describes as the three elements of total motivation: autonomy, purpose, and mastery. In short, we saw the astounding difference in his experience and engagement level compared to Emily and Daniel. When we moved into the more advanced course work in high school, the Internet became a third teacher in our house. It all worked.

      Engaging in education that supported autonomy, purpose, and mastery gave Caleb – and his parents! – a whole new grip on learning. After completing his K–12 education in full engagement mode, he was recently accepted to the Berklee College of Music in Boston. Furthermore, Emily and Daniel are also doing well. At last, the Miller family escaped the great machine.

      What grips me now as I review our experiences is the realization that Lisa and I were mature, resourceful, serious about our children, and determined to do and get the right things for them. And we could not do it.

      That is because “it takes a village.” Let me explain.

      The Machine broke Daniel during his senior year. Ironically he also achieved his Eagle Scout Award the same year. The same as with his schooling, we struggled long and hard with his focus and follow-through in Boy Scouts. Every mile and every moment of his journey was hard. And in the end it was high drama: Daniel completed his final requirement and was qualified as an Eagle Scout only three hours before his eighteenth birthday – the deadline! Kevin Christ, Daniel's Scout leader, was in our kitchen quizzing him while I paced like an expectant father in the living room. Then they emerged from the kitchen smiling and the leader extended his hand to me.

      “Congratulations, Mr. Miller, your son is an Eagle Scout!”

      He shook his head, sipped coffee, and laughed, “I've never had one get down to the wire like this. But I've never lost a boy who told me he wanted to become an Eagle.” I was exhausted and grateful. And, like most fathers, I played no part in the delivery.

      Schools that were failing 56 years ago are still failing. Our business model makes no sense. And we have run out of time!

– Geoffrey Canada

      So, what was the difference? Education had become a soul-crushing Machine, but the Boy Scouts was like a family. Daniel's troop was a community of caring parents and Scout leaders; we were all in it together. I was part of this community; I camped, hiked, and provided merit badge counseling and mentoring to a number of kids. We were a village. We took every child seriously and personally.

      Today, I so often think about those who live in “underserved” communities. What hope do they have? How can they conquer the Machine? No wonder that educator Geoffrey Canada says (of his own K–12 path), “Schools that were failing 56 years ago are still failing. Our business model makes no sense. And we have run out of time!” Underserved communities now represent, not years or even decades, but generations of K–12 failure and abuse.

      No matter who you are or where you live, this thing is personal. This story is about every city, community, parent, student, teacher, administrator, and citizen.

      After two years of research and work with more than 60 educators and others with a stake in seeing our schools work and our kids succeed, I and many others are convinced that it just doesn't have to be this way.

      But – and this is very important – the solutions will not come from the usual sources. We cannot wait for reform efforts to make any difference. Reform has been the Machine's solution for change since at least 1955 – that's right, more than 60 years! But reform is often just a reshuffling of the special interests that feed at the “education cafeteria.” Furthermore, reform creates sandcastles and mirages. Sandcastles don't survive the first wave that crashes on the beach and mirages aren't real.

      Our work on this book verified that education is often a cold, organized, and dehumanizing mass of rules, concepts, and metrics. But, as you will also see throughout this book, learning is a profoundly human, organic, and ennobling pursuit of personal dreams and progress.

      The Collaborative Hum

      Our collection of 60 educators, scholars, designers, futurists, and other specialists saw Education Machines all across the country that had been humbled and humanized. What these efforts produced were not sandcastle or mirages, but oases in otherwise arid wastelands. We've seen thousands of kids as engaged in these schools as Caleb was in our home, empowered by autonomy, purpose, and mastery.

      We digested more than 100 books and more than 400 articles, reports, and white papers. We watched countless TED-Ed videos and sat through often-boring White House Education Summit videos that ran eight hours straight with no editing. We attended a variety of conferences. We had pizza night during our San Diego summit in the Junior Achievement Business Park (for kids) and watched the movie Most Likely to Succeed.

      “The collaborative hum” is the vibrating atmosphere of discovery, laughter, honest questions, staccato beeps and clicks of tech tools, and choruses of “wow,” “cool,” and “awesome!”

      We saw what engaged student learning can look like for kids at a troubled middle school in Florida. We visited classes in a South Texas elementary school that had been reconstituted and again witnessed high engagement. How can a school ranked at the bottom 2 percent in Texas so dramatically shift its culture from custodial to one of high engagement – of both teachers and students?

      David Vroonland, Superintendent for the Mesquite (Texas) ISD, described what we saw and would continue to see as “the collaborative hum.” This is how he describes the vibrating atmosphere of discovery, laughter, honest questions, staccato beeps and clicks of tech tools, and choruses of “wow,” “cool,” and “awesome!”

      I think this also describes the journey that begins with the next chapter. Come join us. The K–12 MindShift project has invested leadership, research, and resources in imagining new models for a new era in educating our children. We are genuinely passionate about demonstrating what we have learned to those who are caught in whirlpool of diminishing returns on education. We will explain how to lead change at a local level as a parent, administrator, teacher, business leader, and community leader.

      The stories we tell are gripping and authentic. Portraying real people caught in real crises, they could give you glimpses of what could work in your neighborhood and school.

      Let's get started. Chapter 2 tells the story of how we first heard the clear and compelling call to go around the Education Machine and begin the work of building new models.

CHAPTER 2

      TWO GUYS FROM GAINESVILLE

      We're on a mission from God.

– Jake and Elwood, The Blues Brothers2

      For some reason, I accepted the meeting.

      On October 23, 2013, my colleague Michael Lagocki and I sat across the table from two guys who owned a school furniture dealership in Gainesville, Florida. Oh, God. Another meeting. Another agenda. Another pitch. But, as they talked, I began wondering Who are these guys? My curiosity came fully alive.

      John Crawford, in full beard, was warm and relaxed. At a first impression, he might remind you of a favorite high school science teacher or maybe your minister. But, as I increasingly learned over the coming months, he was also an immovable rock. Bill Latham was intense, fierce, and maybe dangerous. His eyes glowed. As these two fellows talked, I began to realize that they were not John and Bill – they were really Jake and Elwood, “The Blues Brothers,”