Innovation Likes Company...but not always

DIY
Yeah, yeah.  I know I said that Innovation Likes Company in my last post, but I got to thinking (on my own), and I realized that it is not always true.  When you need to get unstuck from a rut or need a new outlook, you can really only get that by hooking up with some other people.  HOWEVER, sometimes you need to be by yourself and grind things out.  

I am still struck by the innovators I have met who say they can't do it alone, and it is probably true.  No man is an island.  The whole is greater than the sum of the parts.  Two heads are better than one (unless you are buying shirts).  Sometimes you feel like a nut and sometimes you don't.  We definitely benefit from getting ideas from other people, but we don't always want what is good, or even expedient, for us.  It is why guys won't ask for directions when they are hopelessly lost.  It is why people continue to complain about a problem that is already solved.  It is human nature to defy logic because it is human nature to want to work things out for ourselves. 

I came across an interesting TedTalk by Susan Cain that promotes the Introvert.  It seems relevant here.  As an introvert myself, it scores a lot of points with me. 

TedTalks: The Power of the Introvert

Campfire, Watering Hole and Cave again
In terms of classroom design, we need to be able to allow for our spaces to accommodate all kinds of learning.  My favourite design model is the Campfire, Watering Hole, and Cave areas.  (I've mentioned this concept before, but I want to talk about it again because it underscores the balance between cooperative and solitary areas.)  We need a Campfire area where the whole class can meet.  Sometimes we need to give global instructions.  Also, if we want to become a community or a tribe, we need a central meeting spot to build those whole group bonds and build a class identity.  I've seen many classes use a circle or a classroom meeting area to fulfil this purpose.  We also need Watering Holes where partners or small groups can gather to collaborate.  If you want to see the intimate gathering potential of such an area, stand by the coffee machine or water cooler in an office on a Monday morning.  Or watch the buffet area at a wedding or party, and see how people meet informally to have a little tete a tete.  The Cave is a really important space for students who want to hunker down and get something done without being distracted.  This is that solitary space where the ideas we've gathered at the Campfire and Watering Hole get synthesized into our own personal way of thinking.  Sometimes we are using the Cave to focus the ideas in our heads and sometimes we are using the space to articulate or represent those ideas to others.

Even now, I sit by myself on my couch and write this (in my cave).  I need time away from others as I think and I write.  I bounce ideas off my wife at the dinner and my friends on the phone or around a table (at a watering hole).  And then I throw my ideas out into the world community for consideration (at my electronic campfire.  Kumbaya!).

Creating a Silent Cave

But in the classroom, I am finding it extremely difficult to create effective Cave spaces.    Isis/RM have these incredible soundproof Pods (right) that create a great cave space.  But even if I could fit these in my classroom, I could not afford them.  Interestingly, my students spontaneously create Cave spaces in our classroom by going under the risers, holing up behind the rolling book cases, stowing away in the cloakroom or removing themselves to the hallway.  All of these still present sound, light, smell, and distraction challenges. 

I was at the Apple Store in San Francisco.  It was crazy busy because of the launch of the new iPad, but because it was so busy, it gave me a chance to stand with my back against the wall and just watch how things worked.  Usually noisy things like the Genius Bar and big presentations were held upstairs.  That doesn't help me too much unless I saw through the ceiling.  But downstairs was regular business.  The interactions between the clients and Apple employees were mostly done at the centre areas, and people noodled at devices on their own at stations along the perimeter walls.  Hmmm, interesting.  By having the main interactions in the middle, customers walking in see that the message is "We are here to help you."  The action is in a more open space.  By having the isolated stations on the outside, those clients' backs are toward the centre, signalling and allowing privacy.  Like a teacher, it is also easier for the Apple people to stand in the centre and monitor their progress without disturbing them. 

I realize a lot of my quiet areas are in the middle of my classroom and my collab spaces are on the outside.  Maybe I should try to reverse them. 

I was talking to CC who is in charge of overseeing the construction of some of our new schools, and he mentioned the difficulty of creating collaborative classrooms that still allowed individual study spaces.  He mentioned cubicle dividers, sliding walls, and curtains as ways to divide rooms but said that these only provide physical barriers, but do not prevent sound from penetrating into outlying areas.  I thought to my own classroom.  I've experimented with lighting and mesh to create pockets of intimate spaces, but I have to admit, these things do nothing for sound.  Maybe I'll invest in a class set of earplugs or put it on next year's supply list. 

Innovation does like company.  But at some time, the company needs to go home so the introverts can get back to (quiet) work.

Innovation Likes Company

In my last post, I talked about the discomfort that leads to innovation.  Sure, making changes, large or small, will probably lead to a decrease in that uncomfortable feeling. 

If you are like me (God help you), as long as you are doing something, you feel like you are moving forward.  I will drive blocks out of my way, sometimes in the wrong direction, just to avoid a traffic stoppage. I feel like as long as I am moving (not necessarily forward), I am working toward my destination.  Yes, I am not known for a whole lot of action (my action figure would be "InAction Man"), but I count thinking as part of that action; it's just not active action.  But that thinking can lead to stewing.  Stewing can lead to brooding.  And that brooding can lead to obsessing.  And that obsessing can lead to a big pile of nothing (except maybe blogging).  Eventually, you (I) have to get up and do something.  (I have a built in timer; it's called sciatica.)  So what is that something we should do?  Find a support group.

What I've noticed in my investigations in innovation is that innovators like a support group.  I was surprised by this.  I assumed that great ideas come from within, and that innovators are solitary, isolated people.  Sure, some innovators can be far out people whose ideas or personalities can push people away, but innovators seek a support group.  In my district, we have a culture of collaboration.  Teachers meet in learning teams that are driven by the teachers and supported by the group.  Almost all of the innovators I've met in my district  belong to a learning team, and if they don't, they have some kind of other support group: university cohort, on-line network, grassroots group of like minded individuals, etc.

When I first started looking into classroom design, I too needed the justification from an outside group.  I went on-line and was disappointed with what I saw.  There was so little, and the sites I found were either school construction (beyond my scope and budget) or were classroom based, but really only talked about decoration (e.g. what borders and posters to put up).  It wasn't until I started blogging and found the blogs of others that my point of view started to expand.  I learned new ideas that I wanted to try and eschewed things that I thought wouldn't work or didn't pertain to me.  My contact with others led me to books and sites that I never would have found myself.  Then I started helping people with their classroom designs, but I learned as much from them as they did from me.   

Meeting others and hearing about their ideas is valuable.  It creates some shortcuts but also new pathways in thinking.  It is this exciting synergy that propels us through the discomfort of the initial phases of innovation,  and the new ideas and deeper understanding gained from others is what continues to mitigate that discomfort.  In talking to others, we get to examine and refine our own thinking and assumptions, and expand our horizons.   

I still don't think you can create a focus group for innovation.  If you bring a cross section of people together, they will define and constrict, and chip away at an idea until there is nothing useful or original left.  Focus groups are the wrong format for innovation because they tend to cleave down to what is known and familiar, not new and innovative.  I think that a support group does the opposite in that it opens up the possibilities and justifies the concept.  Instead of, "Yes, but..." as in a focus group, support groups are expansive with a "Yes, and ..." attitude. 

I would love it if schools could adopt this attitude.  Instead of hacking down new ideas to find 100 ways it won't work, we could be finding 100 ways it could.  We could teach kids to be comfortable with the discomfort of uncertainty, and to mitigate that discomfort by finding ways to solve each of these little puzzles with the power of a support group.  It's not that focus groups are bad, it's just the wrong mechanism for innovation. 

So, to get out of an innovation rut, go find a buddy.  Or at least, a well-intentioned blog.

Innovation is Uncomfortable.

A couple of weeks ago, a learning team of teachers invited me to sit in with them. I jumped at the opportunity because I've heard each of the three passionate teachers individually, so I thought that having all of them in one place would be exciting. And it was. They talked about interesting things they had already done and really creative things they wanted to try. They also had this great synergy in that the ideas piled up on each other. I can't wait to see how it all turns out.

They had a deep knowledge base of their paradigm (as they had done graduate work in it). So they had a specific set of terms and a shared understanding from which to draw. It was like watching skilled architects at work with the technical terminology, deep theoretical base, and creative vision, plus a mechanism for implementing their ideas too.

I found it all very, very interesting.  I threw in little bits here and there, but I was really happy to just take it all in.  One of the parts I found most interesting was something that was not intentional to the meeting.  Apart from myself and the three teachers who invited me, there were three other people present at the meeting: a facilitator, a student teacher, and a teacher (B) who was on staff with two of the other teachers, but who had not taken on the same paradigm of teaching as those two.  The facilitator was equally passionate about this paradigm.  The student teacher had gained some understanding of the paradigm from her sponsor teacher, and was content to listen to the conversation. 

I found it really fascinating to watch B the most.  She asked questions once in a while, but mostly, she was silent like me.  I'd met her before briefly about 12 years ago, so I don't know her that well.  Maybe I am projecting things on her or misjudging her entirely, but I saw a lot of discomfort.

I know that feeling.  Sometimes when teachers talk, I get the confused feeling of "I don't really understand what you are talking about."  Or worse, I get the guilty, inadequate feeling of "Man, I'm not doing any of those things," (or I am doing the exact opposite).   I don't worry about those feelings as much anymore.  It's not because I've turned into a teacher that knows and does everything; it's because I've come to realize that I don't know and do everything, and that it is impossible to do so.  (See my previous post about trying for 80%).  I came to that realization when I worked for the district and met a lot of teachers who felt the same guilt and inadequacy (which was pretty much all of them).

That kind of discomfort though is well, uncomfortable.  It is not a good feeling.  It is tremendously aggravating and unsettling.  But the great thing is this is where innovation is born.  Think of the oyster cliche.  The squishy bivalve works at that piece of grit and works at it until he gets this precious, lustery, gall stone.  If you want to make some really big changes, you are going to have to get good and unsettled first.  Someone or some thing is going to have to really push your buttons in order for you to act (especially if you are a lazy dude like me). 

I'm sure the Wright brothers were right ticked that birds flew and they didn't.  I'm sure (Monkee bass player) Mike Nesmith's mom got irritated one two many times when she invented correction fluid when she was a secretary.  I'm sure that Steve Jobs didn't have enough black turtle necks so he had to raise another billion with the iPhone. 

On a smaller scale, with the work I've been doing in my district around innovation, I've seen similar examples of discomfort leading to great ideas.  This one teacher couldn't stand the idea of kids hanging out at the convenience store or standing around smoking during breaks, so he turned his classroom into a movie club.  Now his kids have a place to go and even have a common language around the shared experiences of watching these movies.  Another teacher felt cut off from her students the way her classroom was arranged, so she enlisted the guidance of her students.  Now she has a beautiful, peaceful classroom that flows and works for everyone.  This other teacher didn't like the way her students were treating each other, so she got them to go out and volunteer in the community.  Now the students have a common bond in the services they provide, and are seen as community leaders.  A math teacher didn't like how he couldn't get to his lower students during class without boring his higher students, so he freed up his time by showing his lessons on-line in advance.  Now, he spends class time working with the struggling students while the higher students (who already watched the lesson at home) spend the time working on their "home"work. 

So my advice to B is to hang in there.  Learn from those others on the learning team or, better yet, find your own way to get over your discomfort.  Something great might come out of it. 

Necessity may be the mother of invention, but discomfort might be the embryo of innovation.

80% and the Big Idea

A friend of mine was asking me how to avoid burnout in teaching.  Despite the fact that it may look like I go overboard sometimes, especially with classroom design, I am a huge advocate in doing just enough.

I know this hockey coach, and he told me that he tells his players, "Try to give 80%."  That floored me!  What happened to "Do your best always!"  or the mathematically improbable, "Give 110%!"?  He explained to me,  "If you give maximum effort all the time, you are going to last maybe two shifts, and we're in it for the game, if not the season."  He also pointed out that if you give 100% during the non-essential times, you will have nothing left in the tank for the crunch times.

I love the 80% idea.  It is a realistic bar to shoot for.   I like the concept of leaving something in the tank for really necessary times.  It's like having an extra gear, a little boost in reserves.  Okay, okay, I admit in my slothlike ways that my 80% is like a lot of people's 20%.  Also, hockey is not a good metaphor for me.  I'm more like a sprinter or maybe a drag racer.  I go flat out for little bursts of time and then rest (or dismantle myself for cleaning), but I'm sure it averages out to around 80%.

The other way I manage is by trying to keep the Big Idea in mind.  I think I've become a better teacher by going for one or two ideas and going deeper instead of bogging myself down with the minutiae (which is REALLY easy to do).  In any project (including my own), I try to think about what is the main thing I want to accomplish out of all of this. 

Both the 80% guide and the Big Idea concept are applicable to classroom design.  Whenever I'm helping someone figure out what to do with their classroom, I apply the Big Idea question, "What do you want your classroom to do or say?"  It really helps to cut out all the distracting non-information and useless features of a classroom.  (If you want a tranquil, harmonious classroom, you might want to take down the Call of Duty posters.)  The 80% guide is great during the implementation phase.  The teachers I work with are always very enthusiastic, but they often bite off more than they can chew.  They get rid of all of their desks at the start because they like the uncluttered look it gives.  But by jumping in so drastically, they either get overwhelmed and can't continue (though they still have plenty of energy to curse me) or they implement too quickly and can't adjust to unforeseen factors: "Sure, the classroom is uncluttered with desks, but all of the students' materials are spread all over the floor because we don't have a place to store their stuff,"  or "We have lots of room to dance, but painting and writing is an issue with no desks."

I got lucky.  When I implemented the risers, because I was so cheap and inept with carpentry, I only had enough materials and time to create one set of risers.  This great restrictive accident let me implement the risers slowly and the first set turned out to be a great prototype.  I was able to see the mistakes I had made and the changes I needed to make for future incarnations.  If I had jumped in and made all of the risers in one go, I wouldn't have learned that I needed to make the lower ones wider (to allow for kids' backsides and feet to co-exist on the same surface) or I would have learned it too late after I already made all of them.  In Matthew Mays' book In Pursuit of Elegance, he talks about how the best designs have something missing.  Gradual implementation with  room for customization is key to this kind of prototyping.

My advice to avoid burnout in teaching in general, or in taking on something like classroom design, is to focus on what is necessary (the Big Idea) and to do as much little as you can so you can clearly see what is making a difference to students' learning.


Oh, one more thing.  Want to keep a little clarity?  Write a journal or a blog (but don't necessarily make it public), but only for 12 minutes (use a timer) at a stretch.  It will help you vent and when you read back on early entries, you'll see how far you've come or remind yourself of how you tackled things in the past.

Ultra Boy

I loaned my friend, Ben, that book, A Whole New Mind, by Daniel Pink.

I previously blogged about the book as one of the books I've taken along on my design journey (here).  Pink describes that we need more creative, holistic thinkers, (like my friend Ben), and talks about the kinds of skills right brainers have such as symphony (bringing disparate elements together) and story (putting together facts into a cohesive, contextual narrative).  I do think it is time for the Right Brainers to take over. The left brainers can only take us so far and seem to do it without conscience.


Ben was talking to his wife, and they wondered if I am right brained or left brained, and couldn't figure which one I was.  I understand their confusion.  I am different things at different times. 

I used to read comics as a kid. I liked the Teen Titans because it was this legion of young superheroes. Superboy (young Superman) was a member, but things seemed too easy because he had all these great powers all of the time. How could he possible fail?  There was not tension or interest in that situation. 

There was this other teen, Ultra Boy. He was like Superboy, but he could only use one of his super powers at a time, (e.g. he couldn't fly and be invulnerable or be strong at the same time). He had to consciously decide which of his powers worked best in each situation. 

I feel like that kid. I have a bunch of talents. I say that with all humility because the problem is I can't use them all of the time, plus the talents are not super strong individually (e.g. super smell, super funny, super sensitive, etc.), plus I have no control over which one I get to use, plus sometimes they just don't work.  For example, I have an exact memory of what a co-worker was wearing the first day we worked together 20 years ago. How useful is that?  Another time, I could tell who was getting on the elevator four floors below because of their perfume. (Supersmell is not a great ability to have in an elevator).

So if I had to label myself,  I guess I am involuntarily multi-brained. My principal once did these profiles on us which were plotted on this circle, and my two dominant styles were on opposite ends of the wheel which doesn't happen much. It's a constant struggle with me. I like to be creative, but my analytical side doesn't see the use in it. I see the big picture, but get mired in details. I like people, but not crowds.  I guess that's why I like blogging.  I can use my creativity when the ability and inspiration present themselves to me which is a schedule I can't predict. 

In terms of the classroom, students are like many versions of Ultra Boy.  They have all of these talents but have to make a conscious decision to use them.  The problem is that they have NO idea of what those talents are.  My job is to help bring those talents out for them to recognize so they can use them (for good, not evil).  The best way I know to do this is to present them with a variety of experiences so they can show their best selves.  The classroom environment plays a key role in that.  If I just give them the same routines everyday, they may never get to see their hidden talents.  Some of my kids are great at sitting in a desk and doing what they are told.  A whole bunch of my kids are not, and the variety of my classroom environment helps them explore the circumstances where they have talents and how they should use them.  Just like Ultra Boy.



p.s Ben sent me this link about stand up desks.  http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/25/us/25desks.htmlEnjoy
and my wife and my friend Lisa coincidentally sent me the same link of a blogpost on classroom design
http://teachwellnow.blogspot.com/2012/01/classroom-design.html