Category: Personal

IN THE RHYTHM OF NATURE: EMBRACING PATIENCE IN EVERYDAY LIFE

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“Place-based education? We have it all,” a colleague recently quipped. Though I agree, I am not so declarative. Instead, I seemingly find myself routinely in quiet appreciative contemplation of the place I live. Fittingly, this past week a friend shared an invitation to attend a storytelling event titled, “Where I Live.” Several eloquent stories were told and afterward, I was left considering my own stories.

As much of the world transitions out of Winter and into Spring, central to “my story” is the role of patience. Akin to deciduous trees which lose their leaves and go into a sort of hibernation, the changing of seasons even in the Tropics, provides us an opportunity to become more aware, grounded, and maybe even grateful. So long as we are patient. Years ago I gave up the snow and cold, so trees shedding their leaves is no longer a part of my autumn-to-winter experience. Instead, winter now signifies whales, waves, and wind. “The original www (World Wide Web),” I kid.

Learning from Great Masters

I awaken exhilarated not from the deep rest but by visions of how the Pacific stretches in the early morning unwrinkled, illuminated in various hues of blue. Paddling out on my 11-foot board I often stand alone, watching whales. Humpback whales to be precise. Approximately 10,000 whales make the 10,000-mile sojourn each year. More will leave than arrive, as these warm waters are for breeding. The whales will eat nothing while here. Yet, upon their return to polar waters, they can consume up to 3,000 pounds of food daily! Though such facts intrigue me, it is the humpbacks’ size and grace that motivates me to paddle out and wait. Rebecca Giggs, author of “In Fathoms: The World in the Whale,” she describes whales as complex and enormous, with lives and abilities that make them masters of the seas. To see a whale is to feel veneration.

Some days I see no whales. Yet, I paddle out whenever possible, pleased to patiently wait. Usually, there is complete silence until I hear air being expelled, sometimes the blow results in a cascade of mist. Legally, one is not allowed to get closer than 100 yards from a whale. Atop a 3-inch table of epoxy, nor would not be wise to be aside the hulking mass of 60,000 pounds. However, there have been times when an utter sense of awe rivaled my patience, and whales have approached me. Gliding beneath and sometimes aside me, more than one whale has risen, rolled on her side, and met my stare. To look into the eye of a whale ensues much emotion and, primordial connection. It is patience, the wait for such encounters that allows for such reverence.

Waves are Nature’s Patience Test

Just as winter means whales, the season also brings world-class waves to the isles. During December, January, and February storms brew far north in the Pacific, sending long, rolling swells. Waves sometimes towering over 20 feet high, crash onto the north and west shores. A common refrain from Civil Defense is “Heed all advice from ocean safety officials. When in doubt, don’t go out.” Yet, it is times like these that resonate most with a surfer’s heart, maybe even speeding it up a beat. High surf is more invitation than warning. Regardless of how active the ocean is, surfing requires patience. At least surfing the “right wave.” Either prostrate or sitting atop an even smaller board, many factors are taken into consideration. The wave’s shape and size are a priority. Also how the crest peels is important, so it is not too steep. Speed is weighed in, fast but not too fast, or maintaining balance may be difficult. To ride a wave is often a fleeting moment, followed by a great deal of work paddling back out and through crashing waves. World class South African Surfer, Shaun Tomson says it best, “Surfing teaches patience. On land, surfers cannot will a swell to appear. They have to wait for nature to make the call. So surfers wait. They keep their eyes on the horizon and they wait.” Sitting astride my board, staring as far as my eyes can see, the sun sinking low. These moments in wait are sometimes as enjoyable as gliding atop the wave.

Chilled by the Wind and Rain of Kīpuʻupuʻu 

Where I live, over two thousand feet above the ocean, the weather can be described as windy or windier. There is no happenstance that the mascot of the school where I teach is kamakani, “wind” in Hawaiian. Trade winds, blowing from NE to ENE direction account for 70% of all winds in Hawaii. The origins of the name “trade winds” date back to the mid-15th century to the mid-17th century and what is called, the Age of Exploration and Overseas Expansion. Sailors recognized the trade winds as a reliable way to navigate and they used the predictable easterly winds for westward voyages across the open oceans. Though summer months may in effect be even windier, it is the type of wind that has me equate winter with wind. Kīpuʻupuʻu, one of at least 58 names for the different winds of Hawai‘i Island, is specific to this place high in the hills and means “chilly wind and rain.” These winds and rain are known for their side-sweeping direction. Patience has a role when Kīpuʻupuʻu winds and rain prevail. One must not imagine hard, knowing how verdant and sweeping hills will illuminate and birds will fill the air in song.

Asked to Change the Rules of the Game

Telling “my story,” I think about how place plays a pivotal position. So too does patience. A lifelong lover of basketball, I helped coach “women’s” basketball this past winter. “Women’s” is wrapped in quotes because it is yet another “w”. Several moments stand out from the season and yet one is indelibly etched as “to be remembered.” A moment that required patience. A player challenged, “If we just hit the top corner of the box, can we count that?” The question, asked honestly, came amidst a drill where players kept missing what is termed “the easiest shot in basketball,” standing 45 degrees and just three feet from the basket. This was a lesson ultimately based on geometric laws. An example of compound motion which combines vertical and horizontal motion. The ball is heaved, follows a three-dimensional trajectory, bounces off the backboard, and goes through the rim and eventually the net. Two points. If only you use the backboard, the keys being the angle of incidence and angle of reflection. Mastering this shot, called a “bank shot” requires a bit of understanding of angles, distance, and also timing. Yet, true mastery comes through repetition and muscle memory. This very drill might just have been “the magic” behind why shooting averages improved so much.

However, at this penultimate practice, the player whether earnestly or entitled asked, “If we just hit the top corner of the box, can we count that?” yearned to shortcut not only the rules of the game but the very essence of geometry itself. My dumbfoundedness resulted in the space for players to ask about spin, height, ball pressure, etc., and how these all might need to be factored in. True, true, and true. And yet, counting a basket meant scoring it. So, “NO! We could not just hit the top corner of the box and count it!” Though I wanted to scream, “Just do the drill,” I calmly bit my bottom lip; somehow, somewhere finding the necessary level of patience to listen, respond kindly, and refocus players’ attention on the mechanics necessary to score.

Letting Patience Be a Unifying Force

Basketball season is over, the winds are settling down, the waves waning, and the whales are all headed north and eastward. I sit contemplatively, reflecting on a life deeply connected to nature’s rhythms. Patience emerges as a guiding principle and I will it blossom. Already I am excited to await another winter and the majestic return of whales and exhilarating waves. Patience is a necessity. The Kīpuʻupuʻu sweeping across the hills and the moments on the basketball court helped me realize the value of this patience. My understanding but also hope, is to understand how every experience shapes a distinct narrative, and how it is patience that holds the potential to serve as a unifying force. If we can be comfortable, if even for just a little while, to step aside, wait, listen, and learn. Only then will places be in a prime position to teach us.

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THE INTERSECTION OF NEPOTISM, AI, AND HUMAN INTELLIGENCE: NO SHORTCUTS

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Face it, we live in a world of volatility, uncertainty, complexity, and ambiguity (VUCA). Even here in Hawaii, a place where much of the world thinks of as paradise. There is an increasing necessity to not only look at the facts but to apply our HI. No, not HI as in the abbreviated form of Hawaii. Rather, HI as in Human Intelligence.  To think for oneself. Not to kid oneself either. Legislation in Hawaii passed in 2010 a requirement that single-family dwellings being built must have solar water heaters. Four years later, all single-use plastic carryout bags were prohibited. As we come upon the tenth anniversary of this ban, we still need to focus and see the forest through the trees. Much remains to be done in Hawaii if we are to truly become more sustainable. The photo above, taken from my home, is but one example. Seeing the whole picture is necessary. A beautiful coastline, open space, and yet the neon green arrow points to where diesel oil burns for energy. A shortcut of sorts.

Education in the AI Era: Shortcuts and Consequences

Recently a colleague encouraged me to install Brisk and Origins as Chrome extensions to detect the misuse of AI and plagiarism. To catch out students who opt for shortcuts. Ultimately though, my energies are more into teaching how to use AI as a thought partner of sorts as from personal experience I’ve garnered an understanding of how AI has the potential to create deeper learning. Surprisingly, however, I have found that many students are reluctant to utilize AI. Though initially drawn to it, students have shared how if used ethically, AI often creates more work. More work? Or, more learning?

An invitation for more “work” is not one usually accepted. Increasingly this appears to be true. As students juggle academics, athletics, the fine arts, and all else whirling in their busy lives I sometimes marvel at the choices being made. For example, many students today have a much more “unique” approach to reading than a few generations ago. Maybe you remember the time, PI (pre-internet), when just had the book and maybe a copy of Spark Notes you purchased in a physical book. Today with the ubiquity of resources, instead of delving into the depths of a book, more traditionally or straightforwardly, students resort to a cunning shortcut. But there are no shortcuts. Watching videos, reading websites, and doing everything BUT reading the book, is a search to reach comprehension without the hassle of exhaustive reading. Ionically this makes the process a whole lot more laborious than just sitting back and reading the book!

Similar to the clever game of intellectual maneuvering to “read” a book, these past months as students apply to universities, I have wondered to what degree students are being used by AI. Opting for the long and winding road, interested in mastering the art of shortcuts, is an inaccurate portrayal being demonstrated to admissions departments? A colleague of mine advises, “Reality will surely strike.” Universities are likely to feel the brunt of who students “really” are and what students can do themselves. AI might be a tool that helps a student jump through the hoop, but once admitted might they be ill-prepared? If so, what might this mean to the future workforce?

The Shortcut Myth

The current conversations of AI and ethics remind me of the nepotism I confronted early in my international teaching career.  “But Matthew, Martin is a ​​Dueñas (surname),” chided the director of the school. I was unfamiliar with the power of a last name and had never experienced such favoritism.  “Matthew, the Dueñas never fail.” All I knew was that Martin had done nothing all year. He knew, his family knew, and the director knew. Yet, ultimately I would be asked to change his grade. I stood my ground and let the director know that it would have to be her to do such a thing, not me.

There is a Chinese saying that goes “Wealth does not last beyond three generations.” This can be likened to a similar belief depicted in the American expression, “Shirtsleeves to shirtsleeves in three generations”. Later in my international teaching career I would have a chance to see this adage playing out and would once again confront nepotism. This time, however, in a different region of the world. The fading of generational wealth was evident as I was introduced to hard-working and determined grandparents who were the builders and first generation of wealth. Students’ parents often were the maintainers and were able to preserve the wealth. Yet, various students, the third generation, were either being pushed through their education or accustomed to taking shortcuts. Unaware that there are no shortcuts. Ultimately, they would be inheriting companies and positions of power in which they were ill-equipped to perform. In effect, they were on the path to becoming the squanders of the families’ wealth.

Nepotism, seemingly in the DNA of many cultures and industries, shares a kinship with the advent of AI as a shortcut. They both illustrate a preference for the familiar over the uncharted. Nepotism prioritizes kinship over meritocracy, while AI prioritizes convenience over authenticity and understanding. I continue to be a proponent of AI, recognizing that it is here to stay. It can and should be used as a tool. Also, one of the elephants in the room is the “shortcut myth.” AI may be just as students report, “more work.” However, when leveraged with honesty, as a tool, an addition, not a replacement to our Human Intelligence, results may generate greater opportunities, broader perspectives, and deeper understanding. In contrast to the constraints of nepotism, possibilities loom.

Meanwhile, it may help if we remember, there are no shortcuts.

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HOW TO REKINDLE THE RUNNER’S SPIRIT: FROM LAST PLACE TO A FRESH START

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Life’s rhythm these past few months has resembled more staccato than flow. However, after more than three decades, I find myself on the familiar yet uncharted path of rediscovering my love for running. In turn, I notice an improved sense of joy, creativity, and legato-like feel to life. Smooth and steady. This fits with education as such exercise has brain-changing effects.

Up until six weeks ago, I would admit to running, only if I were being chased. However, it has not always been this way. I was fueled by the boundless energy and curiosity of childhood and could often be found running in the forests, across the hills, and through Mill Creek. I exchanged my football helmet and pads Freshman year for running shoes and surprised even myself by joining the cross country team. I had never run three miles in my life and now we were warming up with this. The training stands out as a vivid memory, yet one particular cross-country competition especially remains unforgettable. It was a chilly autumn afternoon when Coach Wilson moved me up to run in the Varsity match, surrounded by probably two hundred other eager runners. The race was fierce, with every stride carrying the weight of expectations and determination. I wish I could say I became lost on the course but the truth was I started too fast and ran out of gas. I ended up being at the back. The very back. Once I could see the finish line, the supporters could see me too. And on that final stretch, I could see one other lone boy in a blue jersey just ahead of me. The absolute tail to this whale of a race. As we approached the finish line, the atmosphere grew electric. I suppose this is when my brain had the most changing effects! To this day I wonder if the cheer for the last runners sometimes rivals the 1st place finisher. For most of the race, I had been trailing far behind, lost in my struggle against the course. But, in the final stretch, when I spotted the second-to-last place runner, I summoned every ounce of strength left. Sprinting with all my might, I closed the gap. It was an all-or-nothing effort, and my parched mouth was seemingly whetted by this small victory. To not be the last runner. This however would not be the case, for as we reached the finish chute, the blue in blue abruptly veered in front, stealing my chance at redemption. I crossed the finish line dead last. The first, but also the last time this ever would happen.

Battling Shin Splints in Military Boots, Barefoot Adventures, and Blistered Feet

Fast forward four years and I picked up running again. Only this time my fancy shoes were traded out for leather combat boots. I was part of a Ranger team in the ROTC program at university. The distance tripled and a 40-pound rucksack now weighed heavily on my shoulders. This was an experience that left its mark—quite literally. Brain-changing, to say the least! Those rugged boots pounding against the unforgiving terrain eventually gave rise to the nemesis of every soldier: shin splints. I continued to run, the discomfort growing until I was hobbled. Decades would pass before I would even trot again.

Then in 2013, I came across a book called, “Spark.” The author Dr. John J. Ratey explores how exercise has a profound impact on the brain. I read convincingly about how aerobic exercise has the power to transform one’s health. Something I knew from experience. And nowhere did it indicate one must run. Shortly thereafter a friend recommended I read, “Born to Run.” Christopher McDougall, the book’s author, shares how he overcame injury by running barefoot with an indigenous people in Mexico who were recognized for their abilities to run long distances with huaraches on their feet. Not the huarache of Mexican street food folklore, made of masa and topped with refried beans, meat, cheese, and salsa. No, these huaraches are simple flat sandals, one continuous strap that attaches to the bed of the sandal between the first and second toe. I dabbled in a version of barefoot running, once even running barefoot high in the hills above our house. The result was blood blisters stretching the entire length of the bottom of both feet. And my shin splints from years ago still flared up. Once again, I stepped away from running.

Exercise and Change the Trajectory of Your Life for the Better

Running seemingly became a distant memory until recently when I was inspired during a high school cross-country race. I stood at the edge of the course, the young runners crept and clawed up the steep 8% grade hill. I could almost feel the burn in their legs and the determination in their hearts. Some managed to run the whole way, many walked, and some even maneuvered with their hands pulling at the earth. For some reason running suddenly appealed to me. Maybe because I told myself, “I bet I can run this hill without stopping.” After the race, a colleague randomly shared a TED video of Wendy Suzuki. She is a neuroscientist at New York University. When I looked at the number of viewers, over 16 million, I felt a little like I did in crossing the finish line last. How had I not seen this video? In it, she shares how study after study shows how we benefit from exercise. Before closing she imparts, “I want to leave you with one last thought. And that is, bringing exercise into your life will not only give you a happier, more protective life today, but it will protect your brain from incurable diseases. And in this way, it will change the trajectory of your life for the better.” Convinced, I bought a new pair of running shoes and registered for a 10km run to benefit a local Dry Forest.

Embracing a Healthier Rhythm of Life

A newfound perspective on running has since rekindled the flames of passion for the timeless sport. Yet, choosing to exercise for the benefit of your brain does not have to be limited to running. I invite you to join me on your odyssey, as you remain motivated to move your body. You may even experience greater flow, legato in the place of staccato! Inattention, tiredness, and brain fog shelved for a higher vibration and healthier rhythm of life.

7 Tips For Success
#1 Start slow and keep mileage low so as not to overdo it
#2 Get professionally fitted shoes, creating peace of mind that what you have on your feet is best
#3 Recruit a partner to be your “running partner”
#4 Be creative and change routes for your eyes and body to experience the scenery and terrain
#5 Sign up for an event so you have a goal to work towards
#6 If there is a day you don’t feel like running, take a walk
#7 If you don’t feel like running (or walking!) do something that is active and provides you with joy

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A Return to Authenticity

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I don’t remember anyone ever using the word “authentic” back in the 1990s. Now, we hear about being authentic in how we lead, traveling to experience the authentic, and even how to cook authentic pasta. The push towards greater automation and artificial intelligence possibly propels us further toward falsity and maybe has us yearning for authenticity even more.  

Brené Brown, researcher and storyteller says, “Authenticity is a collection of choices that we have to make every day. It’s about the choice to show up and be real. The choice to be honest. The choice to let our true selves be seen.” Maybe this infers a need to increase human levels of consciousness, from an approach of a concentric circle, starting with oneself. The choice to take a step back and authentically “audit” our lives. Releasing ourselves from the stranglehold of technology is a fantastic starting point. Thankfully, we are already beginning to see a march toward an inevitable tipping point. An evolution of sorts, where an invitation to remove the tethering to a phone, computer, tablet, or wearables, is accepted with greater willingness and alacrity.

First, rewind. In the summer of 2017, I was leading a two-week student expedition in Iceland. As a part of orientation, we proposed a tech fast for a day. “Give yourself a break. A chance to fully be present. Instead of rushing to take a photo or send a Snapchat (mind you, this was a year before TikTok merged with Musical.ly and became available in the U.S.).” To see 15 pairs of teenage eyes bulging and turned upwards in disbelief is a site to see. It was further compounded by one bold student’s “authentic” quip, “Why?” With an added emphasis on fully drawing out the “iiiiiiiii.” Needless to say, it was a tough sale.  

 

Not Entirely Connected

Fast forward six years and the expectation on these same expeditions is a tech-free first seven days. Further, it is something students and families agree to. The statement being made is one centering on being intentional about technology, so students can fully engage in the experience, build a stronger sense of community in their group, and strengthen skills in creating interpersonal relationships. All are critical to an increasing need for connection. The irony is that in a hyper-connected world, digitally, there are many signs on the wall that we are feeling less sense of human connection. Of belonging.

Senior writer of the New York Times, David Leonhardt, imparts how academic research provides evidence for how digital technology is leading to less happiness, especially for teenagers. Yet, despite the magnitude of findings, “Sometimes, the totality of the evidence is stronger than the average correlation across a group of artificial experiments.” 

 

To Do What is Right by Children

So, what might schools and parents do? Instead of what appears a happenstance default to, if a phone can be afforded, and a child wants it, put it in their hands. Critical is for adults to step up. To educate themselves on the advantages and pitfalls of a world being overrun by technology. A world where “typical” American teens supposedly spend half their waking hours on smartphones. A component of stepping up is taking back ownership of the decision-making process. This need not be contested by children as more often than not, it is the adult responsible for shelling out the hundreds of dollars for the device(s) and monthly internet charges. In essence, “children’s phones” are simply on loan. So, it is the adult who rightly can, and arguably should, make such decisions as how much screen time is “right.” When Lisa Damour, psychologist and author, began to implement tech use in her home, the response of her children mirrored a sentiment I recently witnessed on recent outdoor outings with teens. Not only did they not put up a fight but the response resembled a sense of relief.  Damour elaborated how “it did wonders for our family to limit screen time. They are coming back to life. They are more social. They talk instead of shrug and when they get home from school they don’t run up the stairs and close themselves in their rooms. They seem happier and aren’t in such a rush to get back to their phones…and my thirteen and fourteen-year-olds actually went outside. To play. I know, I couldn’t believe it either.”

Similar results were found at Chatelech Secondary School in British Columbia after a 5- month revamping of cell phone use at school, “We are seeing improved mental health, we’re seeing decreased bullying, we’re seeing more engagement in class, we’re seeing more social interaction, kids are playing again instead of being on their phones and we’re seeing increased academic success.” The response when the policy was introduced was also similar. Some students were angry and upset, while others, “were extremely relieved.”

 

Awakening to What Truly is Authentic

If these examples are not enough to build credence, it may prove beneficial to examine the paradox happening in Silicon Valley where for the last few years, more than a handful of billionaires have said no to screen time for children. A few quotes to ponder include the likes of Melinda Gates and Steve Jobs.

“Phones and apps aren’t good or bad by themselves, but for adolescents who don’t yet have the emotional tools to navigate life’s complications and confusions, they can exacerbate the difficulties of growing up: learning how to be kind, coping with feelings of exclusion, taking advantage of freedom while exercising self-control.” ~Melinda Gates

“It literally changes your relationship with society, with each other. It probably interferes with productivity in weird ways. God only knows what it’s doing to our children’s brains.” ~Steve Jobs

The dawning days are behind us. We need not be confused by the likes of ChatGPT and popular media proposing all things artificial intelligence. Rather, there is an awakening, a return to authenticity. A world of purpose. Of balance and intention. A world of far greater connection. Connected with our surroundings, with each other, and to ourselves. Free from the complexities that technology often presents. Lives of “authenticity.”

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A New Era of “Reading”

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How fast does a person think?

Read?

 More than a decade before President John F. Kennedy was touted to read the entire New York Times newspaper in 10 minutes flat, a school teacher named Evelyn Wood would develop speed reading techniques to improve the lives of troubled girls. Evelyn Wood Reading Dynamics Speed Reading courses would set the stage for what today is considered the largest and most trusted provider of speed-reading training, a company called Iris. Their trademark is, “Reading at the speed of thought.” The average person can read about 200-250 words per minute (wpm). With proper training, it is not uncommon for individuals to engage in super speed reading, 3x faster than the norm (1000wpm).  

 But what about listening?

How fast might a person be able to listen with accuracy? According to research by B.J Kemp, an auditory stimulus takes only 8–10 ms to reach the brain, whereas a visual stimulus takes 20-40 ms. This in effect means we can listen more than twice as fast as we can read. 

 But just how fast?

 

Demand for Listening Continues to Grow

 Many university students during the pandemic grew accustomed to speeding up the lectures of their professors. In a new paper published in Applied Cognitive Psychology, researchers concluded that some asynchronous learning formats, like recorded lectures, prove to be much more efficient. Further, there was no major difference in performance between students who watched a lecture at normal speed versus those who watched a lecture at 1.5X or 2X speed. However, a recoil back to in-person lectures may have students twiddling their thumbs. Like waiting for that endless joke’s punchline. 

 Audiobooks are the fastest-growing format in publishing and are predicted to become a $19 billion industry by 2027. January likely will be the 11th straight year, the Audio Publishers Association reports a double-digit increase in audiobook sales. Further, consider the out-of-orbit escalation of podcasts. It is hard to believe podcasts were an enigma a mere twenty years ago. In June 2022, Daniel Ruby’s analytics reported the existence of over 2.4 million podcasts. If you are reading this, you have likely listened to a podcast, book, or maybe both. Possibly even the speed was accelerated 1.5x, or even 2x for more efficiency, or if the narrator possibly read too deliberately.  You may have also selected “Intelligent Speed,” which in effect shortens silences!

 

You Can Argue With History…but You’ll Probably Lose

Yuval Noah Harari, the bestselling author of “Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind”, claims that history is ultimately a complex network of stories. Stories which were not dependent on the written word, but instead passed through oral history. Some  likely told with intent to entertain, whereas others were of a more critical nature.  Stories which passed on the knowledge and wisdom necessary for survival. Stories which in effect activated sensory centers in the brains of our ancestors. Neuroscientists at Princeton University continue to uncover the connections, literally the neurological connections in our brains, demonstrating how stories play a pivotal role in the development of such emotions as  compassion and empathy.

Marvin Harris author of Our Kind and Merlin Donald author of Origins of the Modern Mind: Three Stages in the Evolution of Culture and Cognition believe Homo sapiens fully developed speech and a complex oral culture by at least 45,000 years ago. That means we have been telling stories for some time. Besides having an unequal ratio of ear to mouth, two to one, the printed word is a much more recent invention than the tens of thousands of years we have practiced speaking and listening. “When we’re reading, we’re using parts of the brain that evolved for other purposes, and we’re MacGyvering them so they can be applied to the cognitive task of reading,” explains Daniel Willingham, a professor of psychology at the University of Virginia and author of Raising Kids Who Read. 

 Fantastically, according to the Human Journey, “About 6,000 sounds represent the spoken languages around the world and babies can recognize all of them.” In effect, some might claim that we are hard-wired to listen. Contrast this with learning to read, an ability that is not innate. Unesco details “despite the steady rise in literacy rates over the past 50 years, there are still 773 million illiterate adults around the world, most of whom are women.” That is close to a billion human beings without access to the written word! 

 

Where Might We Go From Here?

In a world seemingly built on acceleration, it is hard to imagine doing anything at 10x speed. However, meet the podfasters, a subset of podcast obsessives who listen to upward of 50 episodes a week. For $2.99 an app first released in 2016, called Rightspeed allows one to train their brain to listen to podcasts and audiobooks at speeds as high as 10x. For this to sound any different than chipmunks on amphetamines, requires dedicated training. A training regime to rival that of Evelyn Wood. Wood reportedly could read at a rate of 2700 wpm which means she would have turned the pages of Melville’s classic “Moby Dick” (209,117 words) in approximately 77 minutes. Or, take YOU. A future you who could “read” this article in 30 seconds!

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WHAT SLOWING DOWN MIGHT TEACH US

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What Slowing Down Might Teach Us

Poquaûhock sounds better than “clam.” Translated “horse fish,” this was the word used by the Narragansett people, an Algonquian American Indian tribe from Rhode Island, to refer to the “quahog,” an edible clam with a very hard shell.  The Atlantic Ocean-dwelling native is of much greater historical importance than an addition to a chowder. The shells of the quahog were initially invaluable in the creation of tools, for storytelling and for recording important historical events and treaties. Beads of the polished quahog shell were crafted and strung in strands, belts, or sashes called wampum.  And wampum belts sometimes were symbolic of ongoing treaties.  So treasured, First Nations’ wampum became Massachusetts’ first legal currency.  The species name mercenaria is even related to the Latin word for commerce.

Yet, with such rich history there is even more to marvel. Inside the marine bivalve mollusk is a soft-bodied invertebrate. One that can live upwards of 500 years! Besides living in intertidal zones and the adaptability this may showcase, the mollusks behavior is one we might stand a chance to learn from. There is a sort of simplicity, a slowing down of time that anthropomorphically must result, as they spend their entire lives in an immobile and isolated state. Yet, the clam is capable of burrowing down or even migrating small distances if in danger.  Otherwise, they remain steadfast. Possibly for centuries!

This is not about becoming more like mollusks. Rather, a glimpse into what behaviors we might begin to bolster, in order to have longer but also improved lives. Moreover, lives where we do not simply exist, but relate as individuals, communities, and to all other life forms.  Connected, balanced, and in life’s flow, symbiotically moving with purpose and defined by shared values.  Slowing down may just be the secret ingredient. Daniel Christian Wahl, author of Designing Regenerative Cultures attests to how we have much to gain when we envision time differently, “A new cultural narrative is emerging, capable of birthing and informing a truly regenerative human culture.” Underlying is a notion of what may very well be our greatest currency, time. The pandemic assisted us in understanding this. Time to pause. Time to reflect. Time to spend time with family. To take more walks. An opportunity to realize what matters most. The frenetic mornings, claustrophobic offices, occupied minutes and hours in traffic and meetings better served as memos. A dawning realization, akin to the sunrise, of primordial potence.

Find More Than Humanity When We Slow Down

National Geographic explorer Paul Salopek, is retracing the journey of some of our human ancestors’ migration beyond Africa. Called, Out of Eden, Salopek is In his tenth year along the 24,000-mile odyssey. Humble Salopek repeatedly seems to pen the phrase, “I am walking across the world.” Said in passing much like one might say, “I’m going to stop by the store.” In the  tenth year of ambling, Salopek is currently in a Tibetan autonomous county in Sichuan Province. In a recent story Salopek shared how this fictional dreamland of Shangri-La was inspired by James Hilton’s 1930s novel Lost Horizon. “Hilton wrote breathlessly of the Shangri-La lamasery… It was a redoubt of ‘utter freedom from worldly cares’ where time paused and people lived for 250 years.”

Half the life of the quahog!

Though there is no univocal definition or description of Slow Journalism, an ambition of speed is absent.  So too are oversimplification and stereotyping.  Walking is the preferred mode of transport, in effect forcing one to slow down and observe carefully. One of the catchphrases of Out of Eden is, “Slow down, find humanity.” I am certain from reading the philosophical Salopek’s writings, what is learned goes beyond the limits of just finding humanity. Possible because time is re-imagined.

A Look to the Trees

German Nobel Prize novelist and poet Hermann Heese is remembered for his body of work centered on an individual’s search for authenticity, self-knowledge and spirituality. In Heese’s ​​1920 “Collection of Fragments,” one passage especially stands out, attesting to the power of time.

“When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts… Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all…

So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.”

A New Currency of Connectedness and Time 

That we might take the time to root ourselves, like the trees. Trusting and patient. Wise, listening, and connected.

In my third year living in a Southeast Asian city of upwards of 15 million inhabitants, concrete prevails more than the trees. Yet, I have repeatedly retreated to lone trees, as forests are seldom to be found. And I have received confirmation. A message of hope, remembrance that I am fortunate to have a life of choice. Conscious and unhindered, I am both imbued and revitalized by responsibility. Embracing uncertainty and ambiguity, while synchronously returning to a less complex story of unity.

One where we are reminded of a new currency, connectedness and time.  Where quahogs and trees are more than mere metaphors of life and longevity. A purposeful and promising path forward.  May the summer help us all reimagine time.

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BAKE A DIFFERENCE

matthewpiercyClassroom Environment

Cosmic Cookie Class Recipe:

2 ½ cups community creation

3 teaspoons all purpose empathy into action

2 sticks of “story” 

12 ounces choice

Directions: Preheat classroom with reflection and intentionality. In a large mixing bowl, add community creation.  Combine empathy and action into community creation.  Beat sticks of “story” in medium mixer bowl until creamy.  Gradually combine creamy mixture with community creation and empathy into action mixture. Stir in choice.  Drop by rounded tablespoon onto untreated learning pan. Bake for 9 months or until golden brown. 

“Have you tried Mimmie’s Bakery? They have the most incredible Cosmic cookie!”  My octogenarian neighbor recently reminded me of a child, as she hailed my attention while I rushed out the door the other morning. There was something heartwarming about an older person getting so animated about something many would consider so simple, a cookie.  Her excitement was contagious and stirred in me a bit of curiosity.

What made Mimmie’s cookie recipe so different?

As the day went on, I seemingly couldn’t get the Cosmic cookie off or out of my mind.  Instead of heading down to the bakery, I considered how I might transfer this idea of a perfect cookie recipe to what I care most about, teaching and learning.  Could I “bake” something similar in my classroom?

Teaching very well can be just a generic chocolate chip cookie but in reality, it is so much more.  And it has the potential to get people excited. In the case of children, “keep” them excited.  I often remind myself, a big part of keeping students love for learning ignited, is simply not getting in their way.  I think about how knowledge is cheap and with the web we are saturated in information 24/7.  It is what we do with learning that matters most.  After two dozen years “baking”in the classroom, I definitely have learned many lessons.  However, an end-of-year student survey allowed for a sort of distillation or surfacing of a “recipe” for my own Cosmic cookie.

When eating healthy, nutritionists often say to choose those foods with the least amount of ingredients.  I’ve boiled my recipe down to but four “ingredients.”  It would be foolhardy to think I have perfected the recipe, though there are definitely ingredients and/or steps which I feel much more confident about.  Yet, perfection?  Even those cookies at Mimmie’s surely are a work in progress.

Summer is a time of much needed rest for educators, but I trust is also a chance for reflection. So much news in education this past year was about the abandonment of  the noble profession. With a little distance this summer, I remain hopeful that many educators might remember back to why they chose (or were chosen!) to be an educator. And I hope there is a sense of rejuvenation and excitement.  Moreover, if the “Cosmic Cookie Class” recipe is helpful to even a single educator, I will feel a sense of satisfaction.

Cosmic Cookie Class Breakdown

  1. Community creation: Community does not just happen.  Intentionality is of extreme importance. The critical skill of learning how to listen but also how to give and receive feedback are at the heart of functioning communities.  A “we do this together” sort of ethos exists. Routines definitely help.  Ideas for implementation include:

*Philosophical chairs

*Class discussion and occasional  fish bowl strategy

*Feedback loops changed up and in a variety of formats:

~Teacher to student

~Student to student

~Student to teacher (such a gift!)

~Parents (digital notebooks) and segments of conversations recorded with Mote

~Administration invited in at the start and during the process, not just in culmination

~Community (something I especially wish to improve)

  1. Empathy but also action:  This begins with awareness.  Several students commented how social studies class “was about becoming  more aware of what is happening around our world.”  Others suggested, “It is about joy, curiousity, and being inspired to create a positive impact that would affect people’s lives for the better.” And, one of my favorite pieces of feedback was how “the class is more a study of life, all subjects combined. Where we find solutions to problems in the world.”  Three ideas for beginning to transition from empathy into action include:

~Start small and add a Virtual Reality experience or simulation

~Read aloud (a book well read and discussed is appealing to learners of all ages)

~Newsela articles citing students as examples of how youth  are making a difference

*Bonus: Partner with experts in the field and they may even broaden your audience for students (eg: Inspired Citizens)

  1. Integrate the power of story:  “Story, as it turns out, was crucial to our evolution — more so than opposable thumbs. Opposable thumbs let us hang on; story told us what to hang on to” (Lisa Cron). Be okay with being vulnerable as you become “known” to students.  Someone who students can connect with.  Sharing anecdotes can add not only “reality” to the classroom but also comfort. The intentional integration of stories, like the time I tacked a horse for a teen my age who had cerebral palsy.  How I was gifted an opportunity to learn gratitude and grace from such an experience. A story like this not only connects with the equestrian lover in the classroom but anyone who might have a beating heart, if the story is one students can re-live with you as you tell it.  Skills learned this past year from a migration project based on story-telling included:

~Slowing down and really practicing what it means to attentively listen.  This can be difficult as habits need to be broken for students and adults alike.  The digital age has sped us up in numerable ways

~As learners listen, challenge them to discern where a deeper “story” might yearn to surface.  Imagine it breaching as a 150- ton whale!

~Developing questions and being prepared to interview but also to design questions on the fly

~Creatively “tell” stories through a variety of mediums (eg. video, stop animation, and podcast)

  1. Provide student choice:  Choice boards can be helpful so there isn’t paralysis amidst a paradox of choices. Further, in an effort to help with scaffolding, suggested tech platforms, as well as process steps are offered as options to follow. The emphasis is always on process yet with sufficient time built in (a calendar proposed), along with feedback, a quality final product is ensured.  Building in a sort of celebration and/or “real” audience helps up the ante and leads to more student ownership and pride of their learning. On my final survey, several students commented with regards to choice.  One student shared, “I love how we get to express our creativity in our learning.”

Power to Make a Difference

It was Maya Angelou who said, “People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”  What matters most in our classroom is this.  How students feel. The four “ingredients” above contain tremendous power. Power to be rememembered? Yes.  But more importantly, the power to make a difference.  

Thank you for reading and for continuing to reflect and learn.

Enjoy the summer and happy “baking”!

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WITH WISDOM WE INVITE HYBRID LIFE AND LEARNING

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With Wisdom We Invite Hybrid Life and Learning

It is absolutely legitimate how a student might gripe about feeling locked up or locked down by school schedules and returning to bells and desks. Especially when considering how some students may have experienced success with balancing work and school. Yet, now with school “back in session” and “normal” working hours, this may mean forgoing the opportunity to earn $20,000+. The 40-hour work weeks are no longer possible. Ample evidence exists of how many adults continue to feel the absurdity of springing back to how things were pre-pandemic. Regimented time back to being a governing force. The feeling of never an unoccupied moment. An overplayed alchemy of monopolized time and boredom. In schools or workplaces alike. Though we know this, we continue to climb into the hamster wheels before us. The predictable. The “safe.” The traditional. But must we have to?

Some Schools and Business Places are Learning

Nick Bloom, Stanford economist and cofounder of WFH Research, professes that “pulling off hybrid work is far from one size fits all.” Bloom cites how different industries like Salesforce and Lazard are getting hybrid work “right.” This is not unique to just the business world but the education sector as well. The World Economic Forum reported in January of 2022 how the United States tops the standings with more than 17 million people being enrolled in online learning. India follows with 13.6 million online learners. Though there are varying predictions for the future, whether online or hybrid, it might make more sense to entertain choices. For, there no longer remains much question as to whether or not there will be (already is!) a shifting in how we imagine time and space. Our reality is one where we can learn and work anytime, anywhere, with anyone willing. And this is exciting!

Small Changes Requiring Intentionality

​​Parent-teacher conferences usually happen once or twice a year. Though brief meetings between 10 and 30 minutes, they are opportunities to leverage parent support. Though educators understand the importance of a collaborative approach, not always does the way we organize events depicts this. Intentionality is required. There are a variety of ways in which we might structure parent-teacher conferences. First, we must begin with a purpose. Why are we meeting? Then, we might ask, who should be present? Not ensuring the presence of students is akin to playing the Telephone Game. A teacher’s message is possibly distorted when or if it gets back to the student. How to gain forward momentum if the driver isn’t in the conference?

We might also examine if conferences follow the traditional approach, an “information dump.” Generically packaged with simplicity to either be like a tattle tale session. Or, on the positive, purely celebratory. The challenge is for schools to develop cultures where processes and conversations are cornerstones. Sure, it is easier to not be present as a student. To take the passive approach and stand aside, so “the adults” can talk about you. However, this is 2022! Students need to show up. Maybe even lead.

Change, Choice, and Principles

Aside from the presence of students in “their” conferences, more schools are turning to an online option for conferences. Sitting in one’s living room may provide more focus than swimming in a gymnasium of simultaneous conferences; a competitive cacophony of noise, as each person attempts to hear the other across the table. Furthermore, for international boarding school parents or even traveling parents, dialing into the conference is now made possible. Many schools report how online conferences had higher attendance than in previous years when offered face-to-face. Regardless of a parent’s preference, it might be wise to not just default to how things were. Instead, planning intentionality leaves an enormous amount to be discovered. Survey parents. Find out which options are likely to work best for them. Then, instead of one or another, build schedules embedded in options. Stephen Covey says it best, “There are three constants in life… change, choice, and principles.” The pandemic gifted us with an understanding of the importance of flexibility. Might we move with principles, into an ever-changing future, where choices are prevalent?

 

Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash

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WHAT WE CAN LEARN FROM A WILIWILI

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<strong>What We Can Learn from a Wiliwili</strong>

~A Difference Between Knowledge and Wisdom

We seem to drown in distractions, our phones the greatest culprit of all. At this moment, the palm of my hand remains empty as I sit and listen to a well-respected speaker. Yet my attention is clearly diverted, my eyes on the horizon as the sun dips into the ocean. The descending light drawing silhouettes of what is my captured  fixation;  lone wiliwili trees, Erythrina sandwicensis.  Though their name translates as “repeatedly twisted” in Hawaiian, describing their distinctive seed pods, it is their resiliency which marvels, only matched by their beauty and strength.  Somehow they defy life’s odds, thriving where less than an inch of rain falls in a nine month period. Steadfast, they reach out of barren and harsh volcanic fields of basalt.  Standing as a sentinel, it is difficult to look upon a wiliwili  and not consider its wisdom.

Amidst the environs of a dry forest, I came to learn more about how the interaction of land and culture contributed to the sustainability of island societies hundreds of years ago. The speaker was a brilliant septuagenarian professor of science from a decorated university and his modus operandi was one of lecture. He clearly was motivated by a desire to share with the people gathered, his audience, the importance of spaces, places, the past and present.  Not unlike the wiliwili, he was a bit gnarly, surely rooted in the wisdom that likely came from life experience.  But this evening was more about knowledge. Graphs, tables, and images of archaeological excavations accompanied an array of text stacked in bullet form as he talked and the people listened.

As he talked and the people listened.

As he talked and the people listened…

The evening did not exactly align with what is known in Hawaii as “talk story,” or a time to explore ideas, opinions, and history.  Amongst his many messages were facts such as how mica minerals from Asia’s Taklimakan Desert blew over and were contained in the strata of the island’s soil. Another fact was how pre-contact, the island population was larger than the current census. Yet, Hawaiians were entirely self-sufficient in terms of energy, food, and water. After nearly an hour, the scientist was interrupted by a few emboldened individuals in the audience. They wanted to ask questions. This appeared to just happen, not necessarily part of his plan. However, an allowance was made for a few questions and then the final slides and knowledge was imparted.

This was not the end however.

Earlier in the evening, a not-for-profit organization was alluded to and now it would be represented by two women.  However, they would do so much more than talk at the audience.  As founders they could wax poetic about how they were helping preserve and also restore land not far from the desert in which we sat. Or, they could make a plea for support. Instead, a completely different approach was taken.  Instead of launching into the known, they invited the unknown. Ironically, between the two of them their accumulated years did not match the scientist. And yet they appeared to stand rooted with and in wisdom.

“What would you like to know?” one of the woman asked in confidence. The predominantly white-haired audience seemed stunned for a moment. Foreheads wrinkled and necks kinked backwards. As if to say, “The gumption to ask us this? Just tell us!”

I made a mental note to reflect more upon the moment.

What happened was in step with traditional classrooms and a passive approach to “learning.”  Comfort in being told how the world works.  Acted upon. Purely knowledge based and never before was it more apparent how this could be juxtaposed with the natural world. The wiliwili does not just stand and wait. If it did, it would die!  Instead, it actively searches out what it needs to thrive, not knowing where to find it but sensing rather.

The approach of the two women was as empowering as it was flipped. Inviting wonder, questions ensued.  Questions about nearly everything, from the origins of the organization to how to get involved. Suddenly the audience was alive.

When it was time to go, we walked out under a darkened sky.  I perceived the wiliwili looking upon us. The two women by our side, the scientist long gone. Hawaiians pre-contact navigated across the oceans using nothing more than the stars, sun, and moon. We asked the women if what we saw was Pleiades (Makalii in Hawaiian). They confirmed it so, and shared how just two days prior, the constellation marked the start of the New Year and Makahiki. A time of celebration but also appreciation.  A reminder to take care of the land and all resources.

I continue to think about those lone wiliwilis in the desert and their resiliency. I also reflect on the evening. Of the importance of an invitational approach towards enquiry and the distinction between knowledge and wisdom. Surely the ancients knew the difference.  Might we begin to understand as well.

 

Photograph by Sachin Clicks @ Pixahive 

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REALIZING THE POWERS OF OPTIMISM AND RESPONSIBILITY IN 2023

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A handful of years have passed since I set ablaze an effigy. Tis’ the season of Año Viejo in Ecuador, a cremation ceremony meant to signify purification and a goodbye to the past.  An opportunity to allow for regeneration in the coming year. Though undetermined exactly when this tradition began, the origins are likely a combination of religious, political, and sanitary factors. Here in the middle of the world along city sidewalks, three monigotes (rag dolls) dominate as representatives of 2022.

A politician, a professional athlete, and a pandemic.

President Lasso, Lionel Messi, and the Coronavirus.

If I had my choice, we would be burning something to signify industrialization. More specifically, a schoolhouse to symbolize a quick goodbye to the crumbling educational systems of disempowerment we have accepted for far too long. However, as the broken system seemingly slowly decays, I consider the critical importance of optimism and responsibility.

A Vision of the Future

Joe Dispenza, a neuroscientist, researcher, and New York Times bestselling author imparts, “We are either defined by a vision of the future or the memories of the past.”  Though the close of a year results in reflection of the past 365 days, it is our “visioning” of the future that holds the greatest of powers.  What do we want? Accepting that the world is a very different place than when “school” was designed, it seems logical that learning is not the same as it was two hundred years ago.  Part of education’s “overhaul” must be empowerment and responsibility.

The Phoenix awaits, as the old schoolhouses turn to ash. Yet, even if new beginnings are exciting, they are not always easy. Author Nicole Sobon’s advice is fitting, “Sometimes the hardest part isn’t letting go but rather learning to start over.” I think to myself how letting go, surely would be a lot easier, if the thing we were letting go of was in a heap of ashes, especially considering how our species seemingly has a knack of rebounding back to old forms.  And 2023 requires more than a “form” focus. To reform or even transform may just not be sufficient. Instead, might we direct our energies towards the formation of new and creative pathways.  Paths laid down by learners themselves.  To do so, requires the empowerment, trust, and agency of students.  An approach unlike the traditional passive, inflexible, and hierarchical approach towards learning.

A Future Up For Grabs

This past semester I heard an array of excuses but documented six, indiscriminate of validity.

  1. “I was at  a swimming competition last weekend and was sick last week and this Monday.”
  2. “I was unwell this last week with a throat infection that paralyzed me in the neck. I was on antibiotics and I was unwell. I didn’t see the assignment.”
  3. “I might fall behind on some of the work. There is a family emergency and we’ve been quite busy traveling.” 
  4. “I was sick for 4 days and missed an additional day for an out of school activity.”
  5. “I don’t know if you heard but there’s a tropical storm passing through and slowly turning into Category 1.”
  6. “I’m not sure what happened but I didn’t see any reply from my Zoom partner. We now have an issue with wifi and electricity in my neighborhood because one of the power stations was hit by lightning or something.”

Besides being enamored by the creativity, especially the one about “paralysis,” I found myself pondering the need to address one core competency in 2023 and beyond.  “Reflect on and take responsibility for your learning and that of others.”

Jared Diamond, a geographer, historian, anthropologist, and best-selling author maintains optimism, regarding our human abilities to solve the problems we have caused. Diamond cites how we should balance hope for the future with a need to be careful and in Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed writes, “The future is up for grabs, lying in our own hands.” World-renowned historian and philosopher Yuval Noah Harari shares a sentiment similar to Diamond’s. Optimism is evident in the dedication of his most recent book,  Unstoppable Us, Volume 1: How Humans Took Over the World, penned for middle school students.  “To all beings — those gone, those living and those still to come. Our ancestors made the world what it is. We can decide what the world will become.”

Stop Making Excuses

Books like Harari’s have a message students need to hear. Tightly woven into the very fabric is a challenge for ingenuity and also an appeal to assume responsibility. No one speaks with greater passion about the urgency of responsibility than Jocko Willink, retired U.S. Navy SEAL officer and co-author of a #1 New York Times bestseller. A comment on Jocko’s YouTube TEDx video reads, “Jocko wasn’t born, he was tactically deployed.” Further, author Blake Stilwill described Willink’s intensity as an understatement. “Like calling Mount Everest “big” or Antarctica “cold.” Whatever the case, Jocko emboldens a new mindset. Ultimately centered on what he refers to as “extreme ownership.” “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.”

Seeing the Light Always

Simon Sinek’s outlook on optimism is not unlike Diamond or Harari’s. Sinek, a famed author and inspirational speaker has created a business out of optimism. He shares  how great leaders are optimists. “This is not the same as being positive. Positive is finding the light in the now; optimists see the light always,” says Sinek. Educators and parents alike surely see this light daily in children. Remaining optimistic ultimately is a choice, akin to making the choice to stop making excuses. Both require strident action.

This is more exciting than enthralling. Almost alchemical!  To think of the power that might be realized in 2023, if we choose a path of greater responsibility and optimism.

Leaping into 2023

Photo by Jake Pierrelee on Unsplash

Though a bit rainy this New Year’s eve, effigies still burn on many a street corner. Where I stand, the fully clothed rag doll packed with sawdust glows. The firelight however lessens as I stand transfixed by the flame.  Before being reduced to a pile of ash, I contemplate all that the new year may bring, but also what I may be able to bring to it!  Cognizant of responsibility and optimism’s omnipotence.

Tradition in Ecuador dictates how you can ensure happiness and prosperity in the coming year if you jump over the fire twelve times. For good measure I leap thirteen times.

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