When Work Lost Its Meaning

matthewpiercyPersonal

When did “work” get a bad name?

As summer in the northern hemisphere approaches, I’ve found myself in a number of conversations with parents of teenagers, particularly those who are recent high school graduates or home from college. A few phrases surface again and again: “He doesn’t listen to me anymore,” and “I wish she would get a job.”

They seem to point toward a shift in parenting that is different from the one I grew up with, and one I’ve recently heard described as “permissive parenting.” In this approach, parents often avoid conflict, set fewer boundaries, and sometimes give in to a child’s demands in an effort to maintain peace. Some even suggest that parents feel intimidated by their own children.

This sits in contrast to how things felt more traditional, where what parents said carried real weight. You didn’t really question it. You just accepted it. That was the world I grew up in: babysitting, mowing lawns, shoveling snow, and working forklift jobs in the summer.

What Work Taught Me

Looking back, what stands out most from that early work is not the tasks themselves, but what they required of me.

Above all, I learned how to show up.

There were days that were physically demanding. Heat that scorched, and also frozen days. Early mornings and nights that stretched longer than expected. But within that rhythm, I began to understand initiative. I learned something about discipline, and I began to connect effort with value. In that sense, work was not only about earning money. It was also about learning what it means to contribute. It makes me wonder whether handing a child a credit card, while struggling to say “no,” serves them well for what lies ahead.

The Saturday Morning That Didn’t Match the Story

And yet, things are not always as they first appear.

I was reminded of this recently when a grade 12 student surprised me at 7am on Saturday morning. Wanting to be sure I understood what I was seeing, I later checked her attendance record. On paper, she is what might be described as a “part-time” student, skipping on average a class each day. “Skipping” may not even be the right word,” given that many of these absences are excused by a parent (a topic I’ve written about before in “Breaking the Habit of Excuse”).

And yet, on this particular Saturday morning there she was!  Greeting me, taking my coffee order, and working the cash register. Meanwhile, it felt reasonable to assume many of her classmates were still asleep. Curious about this contrast, I learned that her family does not struggle to make ends meet, yet both parents themselves are hard-working. It brought to mind the familiar saying about the apple and the tree. I guess I should not have been surprised.

Learning Through Everyday Responsibility

Another recent moment that is staying with me came during a dinner out. A family, two young parents and their toddler and baby dined at the table next to ours. The toddler did not have the phone of mom or dad in front of him, to hold his attention. He simply watched the room. His younger brother doing nearly the same, except for at one point crumpling a paper placemat in quiet exploration.

When the food arrived, it was not from a children’s menu. The parents cut portions and placed them in front of both children, and then simply allowed them to eat. Meanwhile they carried on their conversation. This “ritual” was not performative, rather seemingly instinctual. There was no coaxing or coddling. If the children were hungry, they would eat. It was beautiful. Unmanaged and natural.

The Lawn, the Robot, and the Missing Lessons

On another day,  it seemed my neighbor and I were synched as we moved about mowing and trimming our lawns. At one point we paused in unison and exchanged niceties. I said something in regards to how he soon was likely to be unemployed from lawn duty and how his son would soon take over. He responded how he imagines a robot doing the work. Oddly enough, one of my favorite weekly bloggers, Nathan Krai, recently wrote about a robotic lawn mower. How “it maps the yard. Cuts the grass. Charges itself. Goes back out. No effort. No time required.” The post is titled, “The Trade We’re Not Talking About.” Krai compels us to consider optimization and at what costs. Talking with my neighbor, I couldn’t help but think how getting such a robot would not only be cutting grass. It would be cutting his son out of the opportunity to learn so many things. Responsibility and how regular tasks need to be completed even when they may feel repetitive. Work ethic and a connection between effort and visible results. Delayed gratification or simply the feeling of contributing to the family. And care, maintaining a lawn teaches stewardship and respect for the home. And yet, as Krai alludes to, it may not even be about the “work” but more about optimization and the need for conscious decisions as we move into the possibility of more automated tasks in the futures.

Finding Balance in Parenting and Teaching

Children grow through work, responsibility, and expectations, yet it is also true that an overly permissive approach can limit the kinds of experiences that shape them. At the same time, there is a need for balance. Knowing when to step forward, and when to step back. As a teacher of Capstone, I often feel this as a kind of quiet tension. Part Science, part Art. And yet, not always equal parts.

This year, I experienced that tension with a student I will call Kyle. From the outset, it was clear that a conventional approach would not serve him well. His previous year had been marked by disengagement and avoidance, and his attendance reflected that reality. Instead of insisting on constant structure, I stepped back more than I normally would. Over time, something shifted. Kyle began to build his own project, ultimately learning to vibecode an app that was later published to the Apple Store. It was not a straightforward process. There were misunderstandings along the way, including concerns from some that he was “cheating” by using AI. But what I observed was something different. Kyle’s engagement was sustained and he showcased the value of iteration. His persistence was evident in consistent trial and error. When he presented his work to the community, there was a clear sense of accomplishment. More importantly, there was ownership.

Three Things Worth Holding Onto

As the academic term comes to a close, I find myself returning to three simple reflections:

  • Teens benefit from summer jobs.
  • Robots should not be cutting our grass.
  • And in both parenting and teaching, we are often called to move between stepping forward and stepping back.

And as far as “work” getting a bad name, it seems some cultures, and perhaps classes, have mistaken comfort for success. Avoiding the very effort and discomfort that build capable people.

##########

A Student Told Me She Hated Nature

matthewpiercyClassroom Environment

“Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.” Rather wise words attributed to Einstein, someone who identified more with humility and curiosity than wisdom. Yet, I thought of this quote recently when a student surprised me by adamantly declaring, “I hate nature!” I could not stop thinking about it. In the moment, cautious of my tone, I recoiled with “Hate nature? But we and all life IS nature!”  I did not go into a diatribe of how we breathe nature. Eat from nature. Live in (and hopefully “with”) nature. There was a reason for her words and I wanted to know more. Her three words made me wonder if our connection to nature might shape our attention. 

As much as I would rather not admit, surely this student is not the only one who does not appreciate nature. Or doesn’t appreciate it YET.  In a time when many scientists call our era the Anthropocene, humans inextricably are reshaping the planet. Nurture, or lack thereof, and nature both are in flux. Systems are being built which remove us from nature, meanwhile not only harnessing our attention but capitalizing on it.

Nature not only restores my attention but my whole being. Sitting in the garden, the mist comfortably falling upon my skin, birdsong filling the air. Relaxing in a myriad of ways and in direct opposition to the algorithmic battles waged for my attention.  As a teacher, the longer I am in the classroom, the more I recognize how the forces competing for attention grow stronger every year. I wonder, might 2026 be the quiet moment before a storm? Moreover, if yesterday was not “the time,” today is. We can no longer wait for a “tomorrow,” The choices we make are hopefully as conscious as they are powerful. Choices that lead to habits. Habits formed to help guide attention. I wake up thinking, with utmost intentionality, of the importance to influence the next generation (even the “nature haters”) to remember nature. Not something outside of us. Nature is what we are.

 

A decade can pass rather quickly. It is hard to comprehend how it was 2016, and the octogenarian and world-renowned biologist, E.O Wilson, was sitting in the row in front of me. He was about to speak at the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) World Conservation Congress. I didn’t even know who he was. My mom would say moments like these could lead others to believe I possibly was born under a rock. Nonetheless, Wilson made an impression. Speaking about his “Half-Earth Proposal,” Wilson advocated for conserving half of the Earth’s land and sea to prevent mass extinction. This aligned with his integrity, what he knew to be true and with who Wilson was. Akin to Dr. Seuss’s Lorax, Wilson had been “speaking for the trees” for years. In effect, 18 years prior he said, “We are drowning in information, while starving for wisdom.” Mind you, this was nine years before the iPhone! Our pockets free of “smart”phones and yet we already were “drowning” in information.More digitally connected but rapidly removing ourselves from what truly connects us. 

 

Attention Is the New Currency

The modern attention economy pervasively captures students through algorithms and constant distraction. I say “students” but none of us really is immune to the design. “When you combine this business model with powerful handheld devices that are always connected to the internet, algorithms being weaponized to extract as much of our time and attention as possible, and hundreds of billions of dollars of investment, suddenly the societal impacts become worrisome.” Author Cal Newport shared this ten years ago in Deep Work. Social Media platforms like TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube are designed to not only capture our attention but to hold it. Essentially, more time spent on a platform, the more money made. If you think your dopamine reward system is not being tapped into, grab a post it note and just tally how many times you check your phone throughout the day. A Washington Post article titled, “Why constantly checking your phone can drain your focus and memory,” cites how  66% of Americans use their phone within 10 minutes of waking up. Further, the article has exceptional graphics to show the data, facts that are contrary to common underestimations of how often one checks their phone. Later in the article, the following is shared, ”German researchers from Heidelberg University found that after just 72 hours without smartphone use, brain activity began to mirror patterns typically seen in substance withdrawal.“ 

Authors Johann Hari and Jonathan Haidt have significantly impacted my thinking. Both also have me reconsidering my own tech use. Hari’s bend is how our attention is not “lost,” but rather “stolen.” Whereas Haidt argues that we delay putting phones in children’s hands due to the detrimental impacts as a result phone-based childhood instead of play-based. In the Anxious Generation, Haidt’s correlational data can be a bit of a deep dive. Yet, there certainly is something to say about the undeniable synchronicity of increased screen time and the uptick in anxiety and depression of girls, but also what Haidt calls, “the retreat from the real world among boys.” Hari and Haidt in many ways are screaming from the mountain tops. But are we listening? 

Some are.

In fact, over 30 states now have policies governing cell phone use in schools. Several counties also have nationwide bans of cell phones in schools. These policies certainly can and do help. And yet sometimes, it feels like just a drop in the ocean.

 

Maybe It Begins With a Seed

The question becomes, if attention is being captured everywhere else, where can students learn to focus again? I caught up with the student who shared, “I hate nature.” It took some probing but I came to find out that her definition of nature is simply, “bugs.” A teen from the world’s largest metropolitan area, her experience outside the city is limited. She certainly is not alone. A growing body of research shows that when children lose regular contact with nature, there tends to be a decline in well-being. Further, creativity and their attention also are negatively impacted. One of my favorite studies by researcher Ming Kuo found how students with classroom views of green landscapes showed better concentration and academic performance. Just looking at nature, passive exposure to greenery, can measurably improve one’s attention. Exposure to nature may not immediately create a love for the outdoors. But it may quietly help restore attention.

 

Our school, here in Hawaii, set against a backdrop of green rolling pastures and clear blue skies possibly is not eliciting a love of nature for my student. But, maybe it is serving her ability to pay closer attention and we don’t even know it! Still, work needs to be done in redefining nature. And this begins with experience. Planned for the fourth quarter is a unit where we spend time in our school’s garden. I already saw the student’s downturned smile when I mentioned how we would be growing plants from seed. Something no student in my high school class has yet to do. I still remember planting seeds in Dixie cups: carefully watering and moving them in the sun and shade throughout the day. When I was in my early twenties I visited my childhood home and was struck to see how the redbud sapling I was given in 1st grade as a part of National Arbor Day had grown to 30 feet. Fast growing, redbud trees often grow up to two feet a year. The intent of our growing plants and being in the garden, is primarily about exposure. It also provides for the opportunity to focus and be away from screens. 

 

I can’t help but think about how these experiences might be seeds themselves. And what if…What if attention grows the same way a tree does? 

Two feet a year?

##########################

 

Breaking the Habit of Excuse

matthewpiercyClassroom Environment
I awoke this morning to an email from one of my online students. It began: “Certainly not an email I want to be sending to you, but it’s best to be transparent and let you know what’s going on. My grandfather committed suicide in the house we own just down the road.” My most heartfelt condolences were quickly shared. Shortly after, I contemplated the irony of the theme of this article, which I have thought about for weeks: the nature of excuse. Aside from situations as drastic as this student and his grandfather, I am adhering to what I know to be true: students grow most when adults (teachers, but also parents) stop protecting them from accountability and instead create a culture where responsibility and high expectations are the norm.

The Myth of Teenage Exceptionalism

Too often, I have seen what might be labeled as “exceptionalism.” Instead of a clear recognition that everyone is busy, many students appear to think they are the only ones juggling academics, athletics, work, and everything else that goes with being a teenager. Excuses become almost like breath—involuntary, and often given when not even asked for, as if to absolve themselves of responsibility. Another message this morning from a different student asked: “I still haven’t gotten a response from my partner. Because of this, I was wondering if the assignment due today could be excused?” Truly not understanding where he was coming from, I asked, “I’m not sure what you mean by ‘excused.’”

Extreme Ownership in the Classroom

Like any other teacher, I have heard (and continue to hear) a litany of excuses. In my stuent orientation this past semester, I made a point to share that students could “save the story.” I am interested in them completing the learning, not in whatever excuse they may have. Whether it is “I forgot,” “I had a basketball game that lasted late,” or “we had many tests this week,” I do not need to know the excuse. I simply need them to take ownership. In an earlier post, I shared what Jocko Willink, retired Navy SEAL commander and author, calls “Extreme Ownership.” He writes, “Once people stop making excuses, stop blaming others, and take ownership of everything in their lives, they are compelled to take action to solve their problems.” Fewer excuses and more action—that is what I continue to encourage students to lean into.

Separating Explanation from Responsibility

In my expectation for students to take extreme ownership, I have needed to make a couple of shifts. The first involves blaming external circumstances. When students share how they are “too busy,” I do my best to help them understand, but I also separate explanation from responsibility. This is a big distinction. I do not simply say I understand; I ask, “Okay, what are you going to do next?” The idea is not to brush it off or fester in the mistake, but rather to make a plan for action. Additionally, when I hear an excuse, I am now quicker to ask a question. For example: “What do you think your next step should be?” In the past, I often met a deadline excuse with, “Okay, just turn it in whenever you can.” Instead, I now ask students to make a specific plan for when and how they will complete the work.

Defining the Line: Reasons vs. Excuses

I still have work to do on helping students delineate between a reason and an excuse. The line is often blurred. Simply put, a reason explains what happened while maintaining the sense that the student will take responsibility for fixing it. An excuse, however, seeks to explain what happened so that responsibility can be avoided. For instance, the student who asked, “I still haven’t gotten a response from my partner. Because of this, I was wondering if the assignment due today could be excused?” followed up asking if the zero on the assignment could be “taken away.” He likely was not looking for the response I provided, “Sure, the zero will be ‘taken away.’ Just as soon as the assignment is turned in.”

The Barbell of High Expectations

I believe accountability is a form of care. When expectations are kept high, students often surprise themselves. Education researcher John Hattie’s synthesis of over 800 meta-analyses found that teacher expectations have a significant positive effect on student achievement. Students often rise—or fall—to the level of expectation communicated to them. I recently heard a podcast analogy comparing learning to weight training. If there is no weight, nothing gets stronger. The weight isn’t there to punish; it is there to develop strength. Students grow by lifting what challenges them, not by avoiding it. Psychologist Carol Dweck’s research on growth mindset shows that students develop resilience and motivation when they are expected to confront challenges. To skirt the barbell or make an excuse will not lead to more strength. Furthermore, when students know we care and our expectations remain high, they stop asking, “Can I get away with this?” and start asking, “What am I capable of?” It is critical for a student’s life beyond school to learn that their actions have consequences. They almost always have control over their outcomes. This realization leads students to organize themselves, manage their time better, and solve problems independently.

An Investment in Agency

Though I have always held high expectations, this transition to “extreme ownership” arrived as I neared my third decade in the classroom. I am still navigating how to communicate and execute it. It is in no way meant to be uncaring or harsh; quite the opposite. It is rooted in care because it communicates belief. A belief that students are capable of adapting and moving forward. I know students sometimes have “real” problems, and I want to be trusted to listen. Ultimately, I want to help them understand that, regardless of circumstances, they still have agency. Extreme ownership is about supporting students to develop the strength to face problems, not run away from them.

Holding the Line with Parents

What has gone unsaid is how this may be perceived by parents. I am fortunate to teach high school seniors, but it is still important to communicate the “why” to parents. Otherwise, parents are sometimes too quick to excuse their children. Recently, a parent requested her son be excused from the first five weeks of a sixteen-week course because he was busy with AP courses and a robotics competition. My knee-jerk response was a declarative, “No.”

The Lasting Impact of Ownership

Students do not benefit from a world that adjusts itself to accommodate their excuses. They benefit from adults who care enough to hold the line. I aim to hold that line while listening and understanding, yet still insisting that the student remains responsible. I often tell my students that what they are learning has lasting impacts. Life will only get busier; they will always have deadlines and setbacks. Their response to this “whirlwind” will make all the difference. When they learn ownership, they carry something far greater than a grade. They carry trust in themselves. Long after they leave my classroom, and even if they forget my name, I hope that ownership remains. Quietly shaping the adult they become and the world they choose to live in. A world of empowerment and beauty. #################################

“Bomb” on Campus

matthewpiercyProfessional Responsibilities

My colleague and I walked a divergent path to class, stepping through the forest and talking about traditions. We spoke about their value, potential drawbacks, and what it means to be reverent. At first, I simplified reverence to authority, something tied to patriotism, religion, and unquestioning respect. Rigid traditions that can hold us back. Yet, a quick turn of events would leave me reflecting that reverence is more than that. Like all things, how we see and define it continues to change. Perhaps we might find a little more reverence in our schools and in our lives.

An Unexpected Discovery

As we ambled toward class, we were surprised to see an excavator and three members of the school’s maintenance team, arms akimbo, standing beside a large hole. My colleague joked, “Hit a water line?” We exchanged small talk, noted the men’s reserved demeanor, and continued on. Later, during class, students noticed police vehicles speeding past and then stop at the edge of the forest.

The scene reminded me that my home, Hawai‘i Island, carries a long history of military training. With this,, hidden dangers. Parts of the island were and remain used for bombing practice, artillery exercises, and live-fire training. Unexploded ordinances (UXO) are weapons that were fired, dropped, or placed but never detonated. As a homeowner, I occasionally receive letters from the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, informing me of surveys to ensure residents’ safety. Thousands of UXO remain. Hawaii News Now reported that, “Over the past two decades, those contractors have found more than 2,700 unexploded ordinances in the Waikoloa Maneuver Area.” They may look old, or even “interesting,” but not always like bombs. Decades later, they are still extremely dangerous.

After class, my colleague quipped, “Students sure were excited by all the police activity. I guess the ‘broken water pipe’ is an unexploded ordinance.” The men’s tight-lippedness now made more sense. But later that night, an email appeared in my inbox: “Important Update Regarding Discovery on Campus.” It was not UXO.

The message explained that the maintenance team had stumbled upon human remains. Police, the Department of Land and Natural Resources, and an archaeologist had been consulted. “Initial observations indicate that the remains may be very old, likely dating back to ancient Hawaiian times,” the email read. “Our priority is to address the matter with care and discretion…We approach this with the utmost respect and cultural sensitivity owed to those who came before us on this ʻāina (land).” Reverence.

Sacred Ground, Dangerous Ground

In Hawai‘i, it is common to talk about energy and the term used is “mana.” Attempting to put into words, mana means the spiritual power or life force in land, water, objects, places, people, and ancestors. Just yesterday, I shared a conversation with a student about mana. Earlier in the week, I drove our girls’ basketball team over Mauna Kea, considered by many to be the tallest mountain in the world measured from sea floor to peak. Some days, the mountain’s energy can be felt. On this trip, several student-athletes and I felt nausea and intense headaches. This was not the terrain, the bends in the road, nor the elevation, as we had made this journey many times without incident. Mana is real.

Mauna Kea is sacred, a boundary between worlds and a living ancestor. Yet our military still trains here, at Pōhakuloa Training Area, where the highest concentration of unexploded ordnance remains. Reverence?

Listening to the Bones

Days later, the hole in the forest was cordoned off with bright orange fencing. In Hawaiian culture, as in many cultures, burial sites are sacred, and bones are believed to retain mana. Cultural practitioners and archaeologists will take time to survey and map the site. They will kneel at the edge of the burial, brushing away centuries of soil. Each bone will be uncovered slowly, as if waking from a long sleep. Nothing rushed, every gesture deliberate, every act a reflection of reverence. One of the challenges in Honolulu’s rail project (begun in 2011 and expected to be finished in 2031) is surveying, protecting, and relocating burial remains to honor ancestors and safeguard the living community.

Becoming Reverent

Need we stumble upon human remains to find more reverence in our lives? Reverence as great care. Here in Hawai‘i, it is common to honor land, water, and ancestors. Not as objects to manage, but as relationships to nurture. Might we as teachers hold the same reverence for our students? What about for our profession? What if reverence was not something we simply held, but something we became? To become reverent in teaching is to deeply respect the work of shaping minds and hearts.

In the words of Steve Jobs, “We’re here to put a dent in the universe.” But perhaps, instead of leaving a dent by force, we add a spark. As teachers, let us live up to the trust placed in us. Dedicated, responsible, connected.

Reverent.

################

Education Still Has Time to Choose Humanity in an Age of AI

matthewpiercyInstruction

Surely I am not the only educator who is tired of watching lipstick being put on pig after pig. Apparent improvements on the surface without really addressing what is required. Intentions and measures taken to raise test scores, create policies around AI usage, and nail down portraits of graduates.  Each might appear successful but ignores the deeper issues.  I only trust 2026 will result in letting the pig be a pig. This possibly requires discomfort as we remove the veneer, are more honest, and see things for what they are. Notably also, for where we currently stand. Then, and only then, might we address what truly is priority. Seemingly, I consistently keep coming back to the power of slowing down. Society is not becoming any less rushed or distracted, so we must learn to consciously do this, slow down. AI this. AI that. Everywhere we turn, AI. Important it clearly is, however it is imperative we gather our thoughts and our selves. Reflecting on what matters most, so as to protect the very human values that make us who we are.

When Outsourced Systems Stop Seeing People

Over the holidays, several hours passed me by as I tried to fix a holiday flight issue. The “support” I received was outsourced and scripted. My frustration mounted as a result of loud background noise at a busy foreign call center. I could barely hear or understand. At times I questioned if I was even communicating with a human. With each phone call, chat, and e-mail, my sense of helplessness left me feeling like I was free falling into an abyss. What contributed most to this, was that it did not appear that anyone was truly  listening or moreover, willing to take ownership.

At one point I surprised myself with the nerve to ask, “Who is responsible here?” Only to be met with, “I don’t understand sir.”

“Uggh!” Not one to give up, I trudged on.

A reader may wonder what this has to do with education. Everything!

Efficiency at What Cost?

Just as no company can outsource responsibility without losing trust, schools cannot outsource learning or human connection without losing purpose. A similar frustration I felt shows up in classrooms and throughout the current decaying education system. The quest for efficiency, blended with AI tools may accelerate the “knowledge” economy but, such automation may just be racing us further apart as humans. Einstein warned, “It has become appallingly obvious that our technology has exceeded our humanity.”  Specifically, he was concerned that ethics were lagging behind as weapons had become powerful enough to destroy humanity. AI is the “weapon” at our doorstep in 2026. More than two and a half years ago, professor Ethan Mollick shared with McKinsey Global Institute imparted AI wasn’t a future threat but was already reshaping the world of work and learning. A tremendous amount has happened in the last couple years. For comparison, the number of transistors on a CPU (computer chip) is said to follow Moore’s Law, doubling roughly every 18–24 months. This led to computers becoming exponentially faster, smaller, and more powerful over time. Until recently, Moore’s Law was haunting growth. AI scaling however, is traveling even faster, doubling in capability in 6-12 months! Such breakneck speed requires even more consideration of and for ethics. Anthropic, an AI research company and public benefit corporation focused on building safe, reliable, and helpful AI systems, is best known for its Claude family of large language models (LLMs). In an article titled, Anthropic’s “Soul Overview” for Claude Has Leaked, Anthropic revealed how they “want Claude to support human oversight of AI,” and to “behave ethically” and “genuinely helpful to operators and users.” So, whilst companies train AI to be ethical, we each may be wise to not give up our own governorship, deciding for ourselves when AI truly helps us instead of just making things faster. 

Human Needs in an Age of AI

To know our needs is critical. Students, teachers, schools, businesses, and all society at large. In an Education Week article titled, “Rising Use of AI in Schools Comes With Big Downsides for Students,” AI is reported to have a negative impact on student to teacher relationships and peer-to-peer connections. Furthermore, the authors cite a report by the nonprofit Center for Democracy and Technology in which “seventy percent of teachers worry that AI weakens critical thinking and research skills.” AI is and will only continue to have an enormous impact on how we are learning. And yes, we, similar to all species, need to adapt. Yet, our human needs are far more stable.  Thus, knowing our needs is critical. So, what exactly is it that we need?

1. Connection: Students need to feel seen, heard, and understood by real people.

Funs Jacobs points to human connection as the answer of what will become more valuable when intelligence becomes a commodity? For more, see:

Human connection will thrive in an AGI world

2. Belonging: Learning happens best in environments where students feel safe and included.

Global Online Academy (GOA) serves students, teachers, and leaders and is comprised of member schools from around the world, including independent, international, charter, and public schools. For more about how they are addressing belonging, see: Belonging Beyond the Bell

3. Meaning: Students need learning to connect to their lives, experiences, and the real world.

After more than two decades in the classroom, this is why I teach Capstone and Entrepreneurship. For Getting Smart, purpose means integrating content and skills outcomes with real-world problems and tasks that students find meaningful. For more, see:The Importance of Purpose-Based Learning in K-12 Education

4. Challenge: Growth requires struggle, thinking, and problem-solving. Process and not just answers.

Gallup reported in 2024, “Less Than Half of Gen Z K-12 Students Say Their Coursework Challenges Them or Gives Them the Opportunity to Do What They Do Best.” For more, see: K-12 Schools Struggle to Engage Gen Z Students

5. Responsibility: Students must develop agency and have an opportunity to not just collect knowledge, but be able to do. This includes ethically using tools, including AI. Yong Zhao said it best in a recent visit to The Knox School, “Learning, is no longer about collecting information. It’s about doing. And in this co-evolving relationship between humans and machines, we must teach students to think critically, act ethically and create value…The goal of education is simple: help every child find their unique greatness. They won’t know what it is until they try. But give them space, support and the chance to fail fast – and they’ll discover it.”

The Cost of Chasing Outcomes

Tis’ the season for grade 12 students to hear from universities on their admittance. The push into these schools is often IB curriculum and AP classes. This is not to be a slam of either curriculum, and yet both receive critiques of how pedagogy is often bent on an overemphasis on structure, compliance, and formulaic inquiry. For students and educators alike there may even be burnout. What runs the risk of getting lost is what truly matters most: knowing students as people, creating space for thinking, academic struggle and responding to the moment, rather than the “checklist.” Or, even the feeling that the ends could ever justify the means. The 5 on an AP exam, the college essay, or even an acceptance letter is hardly “an end.” And the means?  Regardless of school or curriculum, many students are utilizing AI in responsible ways. Yet, shortcuts are common as students push towards a perceived illusory finish line. Automating their learning shortchanges them of the very purpose, learning. All the while, increasing the demand for “real” connection.

A Vote for Humanity

Some are predicting 2026 to be a year in which low-tech (maybe even no tech?) instruction will rebound. Balance is what I hope for. Absolutely, mastery of how to use AI is an essential skill for K12 grads and beyond. And yet so are seminars and oral defenses. Consciousness and intent are critical if we are to ensure that technology does not exceed our humanity. This nexus we are living amidst is exhilarating, inspiring, and frightful. It may even feel like a burden to bear. Yet, what may be our greatest fortune is that we have not crossed over yet. We still have a choice. Education that chooses humanity helps students connect, belong, find meaning, embrace challenge, and take ownership of their learning. 

Make a vote for humanity. I am. 

#########################

The Paradox of School Attendance

matthewpiercyInstruction

Sometimes I feel trapped inside Catch-22s, seeing both sides but not clearly aligned with either. Catch-22s are seemingly ubiquitous, prevalent in many ways within our education system.

The term Catch-22 dates back to 1961 and Joseph Heller’s satirical novel, where U.S. Army bombardier Captain John Yossarian attempts to avoid flying more combat missions in World War II due to the constant danger of war. Complicating matters was the absurd, self-serving bureaucracy of his superiors. The paradox rested in a rule stating that a pilot who was insane could be grounded. Yet, if a pilot asked to be grounded, this was proof that the pilot was sane, and they had to continue flying. Paradoxes simply do not make sense because they contain two opposite or conflicting ideas. In Heller’s novel, the Catch-22 was represented by the illogical, bureaucratic system.

These past few years, I have found my mind grappling with the existence, or non-existence, of attendance policies in schools, and, moreover, the enforcement of them. Enforcement? That does not sound very inviting. We are talking about the privilege of having a teacher and a school. Yet, clearly, we all do not see it this way, and inherent in that is the question of whether our schools and classes are offering real value. Maybe they are on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, but not perceived to be on Mondays or Fridays? Whatever the case, there is global, recent data showing that absenteeism is not just a U.S.-centric issue. The Guardian reported, “In England, over 170,000 children missed at least half their school lessons in 2023–24. This was the highest number ever recorded.”

A year ago, I participated in an accreditation committee, and the data presented showed that the school was challenged with attendance. I left reflecting on how my current school has more than one or two students and families similarly challenged with attending classes. There’s no single national standard in the U.S. for how much school attendance is required to avoid being considered truant; it depends on the state or district. In Hawaii, where I live, the Department of Education Attendance Policy defines chronic absenteeism as missing 10% or more of the school year for any reason. The independent school where I teach has more autonomy to set policies, yet there still appears to be a gray area between “excused” and “nonexcused” absences. Or maybe there really isn’t? A parent can excuse a child without providing much explanation. On this side of the Catch-22, I find agreement. Ultimately, parents are paying customers, and if they want to pay for an education their child does not fully show up for, this seems perfectly acceptable. Furthermore, is the traditional system of education not built around learning by sitting at a desk, within four walls? A student who finds a way to learn without being consistently physically present deserves recognition. Maybe, just maybe, there is truth in the sentiment: “It’s not about breaking the rules, it’s about knowing the rules well enough to make them work for you.” Or, perhaps, Elon Musk’s approach to value is worth considering. Musk explicitly says: “Walk out of a meeting … as soon as it is obvious you aren’t adding value.”

The educator in me sees and feels the other side of the coin as well. At times, I have questioned whether this side is caught up a little in ego. “This is the seventh time she has missed my class,” a thought that has surfaced more than once, as if to foolishly take offense. Mixed in is the feeling of a quiet message of spite being sent: “I don’t need to be there, we don’t really do anything anyway,” a laissez-faire attitude of sorts. One that silently undermines the integrity of the academic program. Upon deeper reflection, however, the umbrage is more about what I would call an unwillingness to be a team player—an apparent lack of consideration for what it means to exist within a greater learning and school community. This, and the responsibility we each have to one another. For example, asking questions, building projects, or helping others understand. These roles depend on collaboration. Several of education’s greatest philosophers would support this. John Dewey believed learning is a social process that happens best through experience and interaction. Lev Vygotsky emphasized the importance of dialogue and collaboration in helping students advance their thinking. Moreover, Jean Piaget, the father of modern developmental psychology and cognitive learning theory, shared that doing things in social collaboration and group effort leads to a critical frame of mind. An essential factor in intellectual development is students communicating with each other.

Yet, insisting that students must be in class implies that learning only happens at school. And though this may be partly true, learning is certainly not limited to the confines of our schools. On the contrary, I can convincingly say that my best learning has always occurred outside of school. So, maybe instead of being caught up in policy and counting days missed, we should focus on the question that matters most:

What can we do to make our classrooms and schools more inviting?

Might this re-envisioning include much more spaciousness of both time and place? 2026 is dawning, and we can hardly claim to be new to a digitally connected world where learning can happen anywhere, from anyone, at any time. Maybe the real Catch-22 isn’t about attendance at all. It’s about creating schools and classrooms where students want to show up, contribute, and learn together. Knowing that my classroom is one of my few “controllables,” I will continue to do everything I can to promote curiosity, collaboration, and connection—so students are ready to “show up.” One of my go-to sources for wisdom is marketing guru Seth Godin, who suggests that showing up matters not just as a physical act, but as a committed, consistent presence. It’s about being generous and doing the work, possibly for something—or someone—bigger than ourselves. Wow, wouldn’t that be a marked difference in education? Generosity and learning for something more than just ourselves—it’s definitely possible.

Thank you, Jane Goodall.
 Thank you, Malala Yousafzai.
 Thank you, Nelson Mandela.

To name just a few. Nothing about them speaks of paradox!

+++++++

Pursuing Excellence Through Reflection and Effort

matthewpiercyPersonal

I love the end of October. In the tropics, we may not see autumn colors, yet transition is definitely in the air. This is the season of harvest and renewal. Makahiki, as it is known in Hawaiian, refers to a full yearly cycle and is marked by the stars, moon phases, and agricultural rhythms.

I have always been drawn to beginnings and adventure, yet Makahiki, the ending of the cycle, has become my favorite time of year. Historically, it was a period of peace and celebration. For me, though a bit base, it means more time in the water and surfing as the waves return to our western-facing shores.

It is also the season of the migratory humpback whales. Some estimates suggest over 10,000 fill these waters to mate, give birth, and nurture their young. Preceding the whales is the lesser-known kōlea, or Pacific Golden Plover. This small bird offers lessons in self-reliance, resolve, and persistence. Taking a moment to contemplate its journey reminds me of the importance of reflection, effort, and tenacity in both teaching and coaching.

Tiny but Tenacious: Strength, Adaptability, and the Kōlea’s Journey

The kōlea arrives before the whales, migrating solo for approximately 3,000 to 3,500 miles (4,800 to 5,600 kilometers).

NONSTOP. 

The journey is completed in just three to four days, without resting or feeding. Unlike many birds capable of trans-oceanic migration, the 3–5 ounce kōlea cannot soar, glide, or swim. Without maps and less than a year old, the juveniles fly without parents. Each bird travels alone, guided only by instinct and celestial navigation.

Though the kōlea and humpback whales travel from similar regions, their reasons for being there are opposite. Hawaiʻi is where humpbacks return to mate, give birth, and nurture calves, while the kōlea breeds in Alaska. Humpbacks do not eat during their stay in Hawaiʻi, yet I recently watched a kōlea feeding in my neighbor’s yard. It is likely the same bird I saw last year, because kōlea notoriously return to the same yard, school field, or patch of grass year after year.

Compared to students who sometimes complain about walking across campus, the kōlea’s endurance and focus are awe-inspiring. In Hawaiʻi, they adjust their diet to survive while maintaining the energy needed for their return migration. The kōlea is a perfect example of strength, resolve, and adaptability.

Effort Meets Awareness: Using Reflection to Maximize Growth

Basketball season begins Monday, and I am excited to return as an assistant girls’ varsity coach. My goals are not to win States or even every game. The focus is on what each player can learn about themselves and how they can develop skills in self-reliance, resolve, and adaptability.

This includes growing their ability to reflect honestly, give maximum effort, and contribute their best part to the team. Much of this work is rooted in perception and the state of “flow.” After each practice, I am hoping to ask players to reflect on two questions:

  1. What was the perceived difficulty of today’s practice?

  2. What was the perceived level of effort in today’s practice?

Both will be measured on a 10-point scale, with 10 being high. Inspired by a conversation with a colleague about The Rise of Superman, a New York Times bestseller, we will use these reflections to gauge intensity. Extreme athletes continually break human performance limits, and their mastery of flow offers insights we can apply in coaching and teaching.

The reflection questions act as a thermometer. If the perceived difficulty of practice is a 5 but effort is not a 10, we have a problem. Conversely, if difficulty is a 10 and effort is only a 5, adjustment is needed. Effort should always aim to be 10. Maya Angelou said it best: “Nothing will work unless you do.”

Finding the Zone: Focus and Flow

Students often use the word “vibe.” This year, I hope our team’s vibe reflects a focus on getting in the zone, or to a place of flow. In the zone, lively bus rides and after-game meals become secondary (or hopefully tertiary!) to diving for loose balls and sinking free throws.

The Rise of Superman shows that people are capable of amazing things when they focus fully and allow themselves to enter flow. The same applies to the kōlea, whose solo persistence and unwavering determination remind us that we are far more capable than we often believe.

Again, consider the kōlea. 

Or, maybe BE the kōlea!

And play with a clear level of focus, resilience, and extraordinary effort. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

This is Learning

matthewpiercyUncategorized

To learn is not to watch. To learn is to do. To fail and try again. To feel the cold water and the burning sun. To fish and not catch. To pitch a tent, use the fly as a ground tarp and to be “swimming” in your sleeping bag. This is learning.

I wrote this in the last article I posted back in May. Little did I recognize that two months later I would co-lead 17 teens on a three-week trip across Croatia and Slovenia. We hiked, biked, kayaked, white water rafted, zip lined, and camped. This WAS learning. Yet, as the days dwindled I found myself in contemplation about students perceived levels of comfort/discomfort, as well as perceived levels of effort. Seeing that many readers likely are beginning another academic year, I am hopeful this topic might push some buttons. Ones that lead to more green lights than red. Furthermore, I remind myself the role of resilience and how it doesn’t come from lessons or lectures. It’s forged in unfamiliar, uncomfortable situations where students learn to stretch themselves. Where we adults step back with intention, just enough to let growth happen.

The Stones Taught What the Pages Couldn’t

I was eager to learn more about Croatia, so I ordered a book about its rich history. Though I would spend more than 20 hours in flight, I could not wait to crack the book and I began reading. However, instead of turning the page or pages, I began to jump from the front to the back and then to the parts in between. Never really reading and definitely not comprehending. The 300+ pages read more like an academic text than a travelogue. The myriad of places, dates, and civilizations of antiquity, too complex to follow. And my skipping all around certainly did not help either.

Yet this all would change. Being in the places, hearing tour guides share stories, and rubbing my hand across the 15th century Venetian stones would allow me to connect the dots. An example of learning by doing. In Hawaii, where I live, it is not uncommon to hear this in the proverb, “Ma ka hana ka ʻike.” A great reminder that from day one this year, I want my students to be doing.

The Suitcase Won’t Fit — and That’s Okay

“There’s bugs!”

“My legs hurt.”

“There’s nowhere to put my suitcase in this tent.”

Two of three complaints uttered by the same student. Each met with compassion and the third with a bit of laughter. Yet, I remained poised enough to step back, but not out. Carefully determining when to intervene and when just to listen or observe. Avoiding the “rescue reflex,” and temptation to fix things quickly, what I found worked best was an honest, “I’m so sorry, can I help?”

“No, I’m fine.”

To be heard was often what simply appeared to matter most.

As the days turned to weeks, the complaints seemed to grow. There was especially a discomfort about not being able to control the little things in life. Like, when to wake up or what was for breakfast. And heaven forbid should we “three amigos” be split up in transport or at lunch! Some students even were comfortable to declare, “I may not be diagnosed (yet!) but I know I suffer from anxiety.” From experience I have seen an uptick in students (and adults) that have increased levels of anxiety. And research indicates how younger generations are more likely to report experiencing anxiety and other mental health conditions compared to previous generations. Yet, the word “anxiety” was being used three times as much as “please” and “thank you” and sometimes it felt as though the word ‘anxiety’ was being used more as a reflex than a reflection. Possibly as a shorthand for discomfort or loss of control.Such overuse diluting its clinical significance.

Effort and Reflection in the Classroom

So, coming back to the classroom. A little discomfort maybe is not a bad thing. It may just be  where growth begins. In Steven Kotler’s “The Rise of Superman” I recently read how “prodigies”, it seemed were made, not born. As Bloom (Benjamin Bloom, creator of Bloom’s Taxonomy), later told reporters, ‘We were looking for exceptional kids, but what we found were exceptional conditions.” I ask myself, what are those conditions? I hope to create them in my classroom this year.

Routine reflection will certainly take hold. One that allows for close scrutiny of perceived levels of effort. Often attributed to baseball great, Derek Jeter, there is truth to the quote, “There may be people who have more talent than you, but there’s no excuse for anyone to work harder than you do.” Getting students to honestly reflect on how hard they are working is something I certainly endeavor.

There is a definitive art to differentiation. Not everyone’s best efforts yield the same results. Taking the Delphic maxim of “To know thyself” one step further, teachers…Know thy students.

Belief and Flow

Something else I want to consider is the important role of truly and fully believing in each student,  Kotler imparts, “When someone believes you can do the impossible, it opens the door to believing it yourself.” “I want to be the kind of teacher who believes so fully in each student that they begin to believe in themselves and not just because I understand the psychological principle and power of how external beliefs often precede internal beliefs, especially in young or developing minds.

Third, besides reflection and empowerment, is to consider what Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi termed “flow”. Flow being that state of deep focus and enjoyment where you are fully absorbed in what you are doing, and time seems to disappear.  I want to be intentional about encouraging deep focus, understanding how flow requires concentration and uninterrupted time on task. As well, I want to continue to balance challenge and skill. For flow is said to arise when the task is hard enough to be engaging, but not so hard that it may cause what some students possibly were feeling in Croatia, anxiety. Furthermore, project-based learning will be a cornerstone in my classroom, inviting student autonomy.

With just a week before students arrive, I intentionally prepare, returning  to that simple truth: learning is not passive. It is often messy and at times, uncomfortable. But within that discomfort lies the space where growth happens. Kind of like the music being in the silence in between the notes. My role, then, is not to remove every obstacle, but to carefully create conditions where effort is expected, confidence in each student is unwavering, and where students can experience the deep satisfaction of flow. Whether in a classroom or on a trail in Croatia, the lesson holds: real learning happens not when we watch, but when we do. And this year, I’m ready to help my students do — and become — more than they thought possible.

###############

Who’s Gonna Carry the Boats? A Classroom Without Walls

matthewpiercyUncategorized

Millions look idly on, as the man builds a shelter. He cuts the wood. He ties the knots. He lights the fire with one strike of the steel. His sons are with him. The Alaskan river runs cold and clear. As a family, they will fish. Eat. Sleep on the dirt.

All the while, millions remain locked to their screens. Out of the elements.

Screens Don’t Build Shelters

Is there little difference between this and so many classrooms?  The almost voyeuristic idleness and envy. Forget about all we might know about teaching, learning, and best practices. Throw out the window what may have been gleaned from Covid.  The default seems to be students remaining fixed to a chair. Often passive as they either listen to teachers talk, or moreover, are told what to do! Little if any exploration or autonomy. Passengers, they even request permission to go to the washroom.

In both instances, watching a family camp and being in a traditional classroom, the wind does not touch them. The earth does not stain them. The water does not wet them. They merely sit and watch.

Luke Nichols’ Outdoor Boys is all too familiar in how it connects with education.

Outdoor Boys is considered one of the fastest growing channels on YouTube, gaining more than 5 million subscribers in a 12-month period. Nichols’ videos have more than 6.8 billion views! However, recently Nichols said he was hanging it up because fame can be “overwhelming.” He plans to spend more time with his family.  His viewers? What will they turn to next? We need not worry. Voids are quickly filled.

Listening Is the Largest Slice

This past semester, I improvised at the start of a class and I asked students to draw a pie graph. Next, divide it up for how you see your average class and time spent practicing each of the following skills: listening, reading, writing, and speaking. Clearly there are so many other skills we are doing but for the sake of the exercise I just wanted to get a window into students’ perception. This was a big ask, as students have seven teachers. Yet, the overwhelming response is what readers might guess.  Listening was the biggest slice of the pie!

Passively listening feeds a similar habit of simply sitting in front of screens.  Clicking and swiping. Awaiting the next delivery of dopamine.  We teachers may talk of engagement but are the children truly engaged? They consume.

Downloading as opposed to uploading.

Floating in still water instead of riding the rapids.

Watching others camp while in the confines of a couch.

They look on as Luke Nichols builds a boat of logs and tarps. Then sails it down a river with his sons. And they love it. Nichols’ sons but also our students. The big difference being that one is doing it! And more often than not, it is not our students. It isn’t our our students who by in large are building the boats. As I write this I can’t help but hear the words of David Goggins’ famous motivational mantra, “Who’s gonna carry the boats?” The phrase said to have its origins in how Navy SEALSs carry heavy boats over long distances.

Are students willing to make the boats? Carry them?  If so, what might be standing in their way? I hope it is not I.

Let Them Feel the Cold Water

To think school is where the only learning happens would be a gross error. Years ago, 3 BIE (Before iPhone Era),  I was part of a larger conversation about what school was preparing students for. Merely for the transition into university or on a grander scale, preparing them for life? And if the later, what might this mean? The question rings just as true today. Surely it is far more than slapping a diploma in a young adults’ hands. What are students able to do?  And what could being cold teach them? Being a little hungry? So few students have ever tied a knot, lit a fire, or ever been lost.

To learn is not to watch. To learn is to do. To fail and try again. To feel the cold water and the burning sun. To fish and not catch. To pitch a tent, use the fly as a ground tarp and to be “swimming” in your sleeping bag. This is learning.

Building a boat and carrying it. This is learning. Not solely performing well on a standardized test.

Luke Nichols is authentic. He tells a good story and his passion and family values resonate with audiences. The natural world which viewers “experience” alongside him is also real. The creek is cold. The fish fight. The wood splits when you swing the axe right. Luke inspires connection, with nature, as a family. As well, what it might mean to embrace adventure.

What would a “creek-filled” curriculum look like?  Educators, administrators, and parents please make room for the creek. Make room for the mud and the silence and the weight of real things. Let’s break out of the four walls that contribute to the falsity of learning being a controlled experiment. Let’s let the students build…and not just in Maker Spaces. Let’s let them fail.

Let’s let them live.

The alternative is that they will only ever watch.

Want to dig in more?  Here are seven examples of engaged students:

St. Vrain Valley Schools – Innovation Center (Longmont, CO). Students collaborate with over 60 local tech companies on real-world projects, such as developing aquatic robots to study endangered species in Peru. They earn $10/hour while gaining practical experience in STEM fields

Smyrna High School –Smyrna, Delaware, USA Engagement strategy: Six career pathway programs with internships and work-based learning to connect education to real jobs, increasing student motivation and engagement.

Coleman Culinary at The Depot – Coleman Community Schools, MI High school students participate in a hands-on culinary arts program, transforming a former restaurant into a classroom where they learn baking, sanitation, and customer service, gaining practical experience through catering events and community dinners.

High Tech High Chula Vista – Chula Vista, California, USA (browse projects) Engagement strategy: Project-based learning integrated school-wide, including extensive internships where students work 30+ hours weekly with local businesses.

School of Environmental Studies (Apple Valley, MN)Known as the “Zoo School,” students participate in interdisciplinary, project-based learning with an environmental focus, including field studies and senior capstone projects that address real-world environmental issues.

United World College of the Atlantic – Wales, UKSituated in a 12th-century castle, UWC Atlantic is part of the global United World Colleges network. The school combines academic rigor with experiential learning, offering courses in sustainability, peace studies, and global citizenship. Students engage in service projects and outdoor education, fostering leadership and a commitment to social responsibility

World Economic Forum (WEF)Though a few years old, WEF selected 16 schools as models pioneering the future of education, reaching nearly 2.5 million children worldwide with new learning approaches. This is worth a read.

##################

Listening to Learn with a Bold New Commitment to Clarity

matthewpiercyUncategorized

“Uncle Matt? Hi! Can you talk?”

Teaching runs deep in my family. My mom and aunt were teachers, and when I followed in their footsteps, they couldn’t have been prouder. So, when my niece recently joined the ranks, it filled me with satisfaction. Just the other day, she shared a video of her classroom. Newer to the profession her excitement and uncertainty are palpable.

She followed up by calling me because she wanted to discuss something that had caught her off guard. During a back-to-school professional development session, the faculty delved into the topic of late work—a conversation that quickly heated up, with a strong focus on “policies.” This word, heavy with implications of compliance and authority, contrasted with my niece’s more collaborative approach, grounded in mutual respect and agreements with her students. After our call ended, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just one of many critical discussions that hopefully we are having before students arrive. Otherwise, it is likely to be overshadowed by more pressing issues which likely could be headed off with these early conversations and agreements. I share my niece’s idealism and agree that it is vital for teachers, administrators, and parents to unite and have a shared vision, working together for the best interests of students. Otherwise, an already complex world becomes even more difficult to navigate.

Open Dialogue, One Key to Student Well-Being

Writing this is not meant to be limiting. It really isn’t about my niece’s school or even late work policies and protocols. Rather, it is about the critical nature of sharing a unified vision and mission, understanding how important it is that we are in alignment and that we are as consistent as possible with expectations and follow through. This is what allows students a bit of space to relax. A space which is increasingly more and more needed in our world today. When we all are on the same page, our cohesion fosters student growth, reinforces core values, and helps students achieve beyond their school goals.  Hopefully there is then a transfer into all areas of their lives, now and in the future.

A recent reputable education journal (I won’t say which one, nor will I share the title) featured a piece where a teacher professed how she hard and fast, simply would not allow AI this year. Such conversations on whether or not we allow students to use AI, largely should be mute. I say this, because simply we cannot (nor should we try) stop the use of AI. This is not pessimism speaking, but rather reality. And if we cannot stop it, there is even more impetus to educate on how to responsibly use it.

Consistency as a Compass

The more my niece talked, the more she seemed to be drilling deeper down in dismay about her school’s inconsistency and scattered beliefs about late work. I assured her that schools across the globe; public and independent are in a similar situation.  When I asked her for some cold and hard data, I was grateful for her  passing along a Google Sheet where teachers responded to the prompt, “Please add your late work policy for your classroom to this document by tomorrow morning.”

My niece was right. There was a wide degree of difference. I decided to use ChatGPT 4.0 to analyze the data and here is what was generated:

Strict No Acceptance:
Some policies state that late work will not be accepted at all unless prior arrangements have been made, emphasizing the importance of meeting deadlines without exceptions.

Harsh Penalties:
Several policies impose significant grade deductions, such as a 10% penalty per day or up to 50% off for work submitted late, which can be severe for students who miss deadlines.

High Flexibility:
On the other end, some policies allow late work to be submitted at any time, with minimal or no penalties, or even full credit up until a certain cutoff (like the end of the quarter).

In Eurasia Review Mir Hassan and Malik Kumail write, “ In an era of constant change, consistency remains the compass that guides students on their educational journey, laying the groundwork for a successful and fulfilling life.” These faculty responses depicted that there was little consistency. Maybe a bit of vision was lacking too. Some teachers possibly could see the forest through the trees whereas, others only saw the trees. This left me wondering, with such a mixed bag of visions and practices, how confusing might this be for students?

“Here I can. There I can’t. Tomorrow is okay but not in two days. 10% in his class and 50% in hers.”

I decided to speak to a colleague at another school and enquired about how their school treats late work. She shared, “Not all faculty could agree. However, since the decision was made, they all agree on the importance of being consistent.” Her school subtracts 5% per day after the due date, but not more than 35%.

Discourse Across Difference

Maybe one of the questions we should be considering is, “How might we provide greater clarity of expectations to and for students?” To do so, means we begin conversations like my niece was having. This undoubtedly requires listening but also flexibility. Something may have to give. And that something might just be us!

Global Online Academy’s (GOA) mission is to reimagine learning to enable students to thrive in a globally networked society. Recently, they announced several new courses will be offered. One is titled, “Discourse Across Difference.” How valuable might this be! For my niece’s school but for all of us? The course description reads, “Our increasingly interconnected, globally networked society presents us with complex social, political, and ethical dilemmas. This course equips students with strategies for engaging such issues through constructive dialogue focused on building understanding across differences…” How much better off might we be if we begin to have more of these conversations and eagerly begin to listen to learn?

I continue to reflect on my conversation with my niece. What is most clear, is that these conversations are more than what they appear. Ultimately, how we have them, can similarly occur in our classrooms. This is the learning environment our students need. As educators, we have a responsibility to cultivate clarity and consistency in our expectations. This begins with the discussions we have among ourselves. If we’re willing to listen and adapt, to see beyond our classrooms and consider the broader impact of our decisions, maybe we can create more supportive and cohesive experiences for our students.

The Need for Courage and Openness in a BANI World

In the post-Cold War era and the 1980s, the VUCA model (Volatility, Uncertainty, Complexity, Ambiguity) appeared. Few would disagree how the world seemingly become even more VUCA-filled. Yet, WU Executive Academy imparts how post-COVID-19, VUCA has evolved to BANI (Brittle, Anxious, Non-linear, Incomprehensible). Barbara Stöttinger, the dean of WU Executive Academy is not pessimistic. “BANI can be answered by the skills that we call ‘pioneers’ qualities…’ Successful leaders must face their own emotions and anxieties to prevail.” Courage and openness towards new things are two necessary traits.

Could we, as educators, take a page from my niece’s book? Being courageous and open enough to start these essential conversations. And then to reflect on them. Ones that call for less “my way” and more curiosity, flexibility, and collaboration. Our students’ best interests depend on it.