Life is unexpected. Just when you think you’ve crested a hill and can look long at the path stretching before you, opportunity arises and you find yourself taking a road unanticipated. I won’t say I’ve taken the one less traveled by, but I have taken another.

Today, I officially began my job as the Director of Technology and Communications in Oak Lawn-Hometown District 123. It is a role about which I am incredibly excited. Because there’s great opportunity here. And I earnestly believe I can seize it.

I’d like to say I’m beginning this position with a long list of answers sitting at the ready for implementation. But that would be a dishonesty. Because at this point, I have more questions than answers. I’m hoping, however, that the right questions can prove more powerful than me thinking I have the right answers. I’m hoping such for what it could mean for our students, our staff, and our community. And what it could mean for learning.

It seems to me as I’ve observed the advent of modern technology increasing in utilization in education, there has grown a rift between those in the Director of Technology role and many of the others in an educational institution.  Somehow the two sides seem to be at odds.  Neither understands the other. As it is most often manifested, the one side is prone to thinking in terms of restricting what takes place in the technological environment, while the other side believes those running the technological environment know very little about education. I know I’m speaking in broad generalities, but it is what I have observed in many places.

I don’t want that to be my case.

I was a classroom teacher for eight years before I left one of the most incredibly rewarding professions in the hopes of making a difference on a broader scale. However, I learned quickly that there is little more rewarding than directly investing in the lives of students in a classroom each day. It is simply an amazing endeavor. I left that not to take a position where my actions matter little to the experience of students and those who are working so hard to help them learn how to learn. I left teaching with the hope that I could make a difference in a different way.

It is now, standing once again on the edge of great new change, that I begin with questions. I’m hoping these are the right ones. Or at least the ones that will lead me to the right ones. And the right ones are those that will make a difference in the lives of the students, staff members, and community where I have the privilege to serve.

As is always the case, your input and help in crafting and molding both these questions and my potential to make a difference is extremely important to me. Here is my beginning.

1.  How is what we’re doing with technology making a difference for learning?

2.  How can we support teachers and do everything we can to help them help their students learn?

3.  How can we support teachers as they continue to learn?

3.  Does the environment we create build trust?

4.  How can we communicate more effectively and better meet the needs of our community?

5.  Are we reliable?

6.  Are we making a positive difference?

I hope these questions guide the work that I have ahead. And I hope I keep questioning the questions. And I know I will keep learning.

I wrote a post this week for my Tech & Learning blog entry about books.  If you haven’t read it, I would love to get your thoughts on the topic.  The more I’ve thought about it, the more I wonder if the question simply doesn’t matter.  Bud Hunt responded to the post on Twitter by saying,

He makes a good point.  I was certainly leaning this way when I wrote the original post, and I’m close to there.  But, I just wonder about the scores of people who feel so passionately otherwise.  Are they misguided, or is there something to their argument?

If you get the chance, I’d love to hear where you stand on the question.  Feel free to comment here, or comment over on the T&L post.

Thanks to Gibson Claire McGuire Regester for use of the Flickr image.

There exists a philosophy of technology that states we should be dedicating specific time in our school day to teach students finite skills of operating computing technology.  That in order to prepare our students properly for the world, we must teach them how to word process and how to operate Power Point and how to keyboard.  The computing instruction is an end goal.  The students should learn these skills because the skills themselves are the important part of technology, and if we don’t stop throughout the day and teach them how to specifically operate the tools or applications within a computer, we will be failing to equip our future.

I’ve had discussions with individuals who say they’d rather see the students learn technology skills in isolation, and it isn’t necessary to embed or even relate this instruction to curricular content or goals.  The important part is that students learn how to operate the computer and properly work the word processing application.

I’ve found this to be a fairly popular philosophy and culture in many circles of public opinion.

So, you are in this conversation with someone.  Someone who believes adamantly that we must focus time and energy and effort on explicitly teaching students how to operate specific technology.  Someone who says we should have a checklist of computer proficiencies for each student so that we will know they can operate a computer successfully.  That if we fail to do so, we will be failing to prepare our students to succeed in the future.

And you respond by saying…

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Thanks to Flickr user wZa HK for the use of the image.

I was eating breakfast with my dad last weekend, just sitting enjoying the beautiful Sunday morning meandering through the topics of our lives, when half way through my plate of banana nut pancakes the conversation turned to politics.  My father, never one to hold back an opinion, began to passionately engage the conversation.  He worked hard to prove his point, and when the “it’s a matter of fact”s came out, I knew all was lost for our peaceful breakfast.  But I noticed, more than I ever have in the past, that his matters of fact were, in fact, matters of assumption.  I raised the point with him.  He didn’t care much for the point.  And I realized there, in that moment, how bad things have really become.  Because we’ve pushed our assumptions of others to the point of assigning them the value of fact.  I fear that while that has likely always been present in human logic, it is becoming more prevalent.  And I realize…

We are a polarized people.

Let’s try an experiment.  See how bad it is.  Read both of the following observations.

The Obama Administration recently set up an email account the public can use to report misinformation they hear about the present health care reform initiative.  The White House blog explains that a great deal of erroneous information is being disseminated through “chain emails or casual conversation”.  The blog maintains that the White House can’t keep track of all this misinformation, so they would like for us to help and report anything we hear that “seems fishy” to the email account they have set up.  Because of the current laws with electronic communications and the requirement that all such records be held permanently, the White House will ultimately have a list of people who have reportedly disagreed with their policy.

The Bush Administration set up a list of suspected individuals who could potentially commit acts of terror against America.  The list was collected through various means, including phone taps and individuals who were reportedly observed engaging in suspicious activity.  Many of the individuals on the list were prohibited from flying within the United States.  The Bush Administration ultimately collected a list of people who they then monitored based on suspicion.  The ACLU maintains the list has grown to include over 1,000,000 names.

Consider your reaction to both stories at this moment.  I’m nearly certain you are currently forming an argument in your mind defending one of the two scenarios and finding fault with the other.  There’s a good chance you might even be working on your rationale to post below in the comments.  You might have even found yourself, at some point through your reading, uttering a “come on” in your mind or even aloud.

And that’s my point.  Think about it.  You are forming a position very likely based on the administration you believe in and support.  You might even find yourself irked at me for bringing up the scenario, or even in your estimation, misrepresenting one of the two sides.

The scenarios aren’t the point.  The point is how much we assume when we read them.  It seems we’ve become a polarized, perpetually skeptical people.  We believe in “our side” and view the other side with an air of uncertainty to the degree that we assume the worst of their intentions.  And we convince ourselves we’re right to do so.

I had the incredible pleasure of hearing Deborah Meier speak a month ago, and one of her most poignant points was that we’re failing to teach empathy in our pursuit of democracy.  I believe she’s absolutely correct.  We’re forgetting that there are multiple sides to a story.  We’re losing our perspective.  And it isn’t just happening in politics.

I see this mindset increasing from a trickle to a torrent in education.  Each interest group grows increasingly more skeptical of the others.  Teachers assume administrators are determined to fleece them at every opportunity.  Administrators assume teachers want to preserve only that which is in a teacher’s best interest.  Parents assume teachers want to take the easy route.  Teachers assume parents don’t respect teachers as professionals.  Technology administrators assume teachers won’t do what it takes to properly use available technology.  Teachers assume network administrators only want to lock down a network to make their job easier.  It goes on and on.

It’s quite sad, really.

Where is the empathy?  Where is the perspective?  Where is the consideration in our own position for those who maintain another?

I earnestly believe we have the capacity to change.  Quite honestly, I earnestly believe we have to.  We can’t continue to allow this state we’re in to perpetuate to the point of eventuality that it has started.

We have to start seeing both sides of the coin.  And I would hope we would feel compelled to allow this lesson to be learned by our students.  Because if we don’t, the polarization might well turn into sure schism.  It’s dangerously close here where we now stand.

We have the means to be better.  I hope we’ll exercise those means.

Thanks to jonr for the use of the Flickr image.

*This is a reflection post required for my JHU-ISTE Leadership program.  As always, if the topic is of no interest to you, feel free to skip on by.

This reflection asked us to answer the following three questions:

How do you define transformational leadership based on your reading?
How can transformational leadership impact the way an administrator leads a school?
How can transformational leadership impact the school administrator as he/she leads integrating technology with instruction?

There are some leaders who ascribe to a “pull” style of leadership.  They stand atop the pyramid of an institution, look forward, and try to pull the pyramid along with them as they take each step toward the vision they have cast for the institution.  This is often referred to as “command” leadership, and while it can certainly be an effective way to move an institution in increments, it is not always the most empowering method for the constituents working within the walls of the pyramid.

There are other leaders who find themselves standing at the bottom of an inverted pyramid.  It is their goal to see the needs of the constituents, as well as the needs of the institution as a whole, and push each individual in a manner that effectively moves both the person within and the institution as a whole.  This is often referenced as servant leadership, and it often dismantles the notion of “leader as manager” and instead fosters leadership with the multitude of constituents in the pyramid.

Servant leadership can also directly lead to “transformational leadership.”  Leonard Burrello speaks directly to the idea of transformational leadership in his book, Educating All Students Together.  Burrello states that transformational leaders need to be less concerned with leading for the sake of compliance and linear system stability and equilibrium, but rather, such leaders should look to increase constituent’s investment and enrollment in the institution’s vision.  Michael Fullan has also written a great deal on this subject, and he states that transformational leaders should build the whole of the institution into each individual.  All people have a voice and input in the direction and execution of the institution’s vision.

When applying this concept to education, one can readily see how an atmosphere of networked learning can occur.  The overall investment and health of the educational institution will be experienced throughout as all members of the community are involved in decision making and implementation of specified goals.  If a building administrator seeks transformational leadership, learning will likely take the lead, and opportunity will abound for all in the system to grow and learn together.

I believe a transformational leader will also allow the institution to adapt as culture and educational practices adapt to better engage the process of learning.  The leader will allow new practices to emerge, and I would postulate that utilizing Argyis’s model of double loop learning for an institution would be an excellent opportunity for organizational learning and growth.  This model would certainly be an impetus for change, and given the present resources emerging and established technologies present, the members of the institution would find themselves tapping into the potential power that technology proffers.  The leader will also focus on the pedagogical questions of implementing technology, and he or she will not seek to implement technology for any contrived mandate or false pretense of doing so solely for the sake of the implementation.

I believe this sort of transformational leadership is exactly the way I want to lead an institution I might have the honor of leading in the future.

Thanks to Bluedrakon for the use of the Flickr image.

The average American student will take American history at least four times in the span of his or her education.  How many of those people can now recall why the Battle of Quebec, fought in 1759, was an important event in American history?

I was talking about this concept with a teacher this week, and his response was, “Ah, a perfect point for why we need repeated practice.  Just like in sports, there’s a lot of value in having our students repeat content, like repeating a skill in practice for any given sport.  If we repeat it enough, each time the student will get it a little better than the time before, and eventually he or she will master it.”  A little paraphrasing there on my part, but the essence is captured and preserved entirely.

This conversation immediately brought to mind the recent tension between the content-focused camp versus the skills-based camp.  And that gave me pause to reflect.

In my estimation, this is one of the foundational, keystone issues we’re facing in education today.  Do we focus on the skills of learning how to learn, or do we focus on the content that we believe students need to know in order to be able to apply skills contextually?  Or, as many advocate, do we need to accept these two aren’t mutually exclusive and strike a balance between the two?  Balance sounds great, but if we’re going to advocate for balance, that means we’re accepting that we need some foundational level of content with which to bestow upon our students.

How do we decide what constitutes the foundational content knowledge?

Just this morning, Karl Fisch posted these thoughts which show how so much of the content we typically classify as foundational is becoming even more immediately available, if such a thing is possible.  If content is that at the ready, do we continue spending time trying to get students to repeat until “mastery?”

For the record, the Battle of Quebec in 1759 was the turning point in the French and Indian War (part of the Seven Years War for friends across the pond).  The outcome of the war gave England control of land that sustained people who would eventually revolt and form their own country- America.  Most history teachers find this of paramount importance, and worthy to be committed to memory.  I’m willing to bet at least a few of you easily found the information using Google.

So, I’ll repeat.  How do we decide what constitutes the foundational content knowledge that every student should know without assistance?  Should there even be such a thing?

Thanks to Nathan Dainty for the Flickr image.

A few weeks ago I took my life into my own hands and faced certain ruin and potential eternal consequences.  I sent a tweet from church.

My wife had to leave service to take care of our young son, and I was left to my own devices.  Quite literally.  I decided to try an experiment and extracted my iPhone from my coat pocket.  I began innocently enough by using the Bible program I have loaded for reference, and then the forbidden fruit dangled enticingly in front of my eyes.  I thought twice, twitched slightly, opened TwitterFon, and sent out this nugget of wisdom.

Inspiring, I know.

Coincidentally, almost immediately after I sent the tweet, I remembered that I have Evernote on my iPhone.  I used the application for the rest of the service to take notes, and I am quite convinced this is something worth continuing in the future.  In fact, I’m going to be writing a guest post on our church’s blog about using technology in service in the near future as a result of the experiment.  I’m sure it’s going to touch off a great conversation with those in our congregation who are a bit, how should I say it, traditional?

I also later confessed my sin to my wife, and a fascinating conversation ensued.  Much of it was centered around recent discussions regarding how presenting to an audience who is Twittering or backchanneling changes the presentation dynamics for a speaker.  This conversation likely merits its own post at some point in the future as well.

But the most telling outcome of this experience didn’t come from my digital note taking in church or the discussion with my wife.  It came a few hours later when I got home and checked my Twitter feed.  The responses to my tweet in church were both entertaining and intriguing.  It was this tweet that really got me thinking.

I wondered what would happen if I did actually start sending out updates from my church’s service.  Would people who know me on Twitter for my educational focus want to hear me talk about my faith?  I then sent out this question.

The responses ranged from unequivocally “I would unfollow you” to “I think you should do it as I prefer people to be all of who they are on Twitter.”  It was quite a range, and it was quite interesting to ponder exactly who we’ve let ourselves become in the social networks in which we run.  Perhaps even, who do we want ourselves to become?

I think of the growth of many online social networks and what this means for the community.  I’ve noticed as Twitter increases in popularity, I have more friends and acquaintances outside of education following me.  I’ve also had our local newspaper, businesses, and past professors add their name to my list.  It begets the question, “what do we do with this?”  I have to wonder if my friends really care about my thoughts on Marzano and his recent research on interactive whiteboards.  Do they care I don’t care for the overused and abused 21st Century nomenclature?  Do they care that I persistently pester one particular Canadian?

This question isn’t restricted to only Twitter.  It applies to all social networks.  What do you do when your mom wants to be your friend on Facebook?  Or your students?  It makes me wonder if we have to start setting up multiple accounts for all our networks.  There have been suggestions that it would be better to have a separate “professional” Twitter account and a “personal” Twitter account.  Would the bifurcation of my life result in a dilution of my personality in both spaces?

Personally, I like some of the inane chatter that happens on Twitter.  I like knowing when Dean spills on his shirt, or what Jon is cooking for dinner, or when Jen is engaged in an epic battle to get Z to bed.  It’s the sum of the small things in our lives that make up the whole of who we are.  I also know, however, that it’s tough to sift through all the chatter at times.  I’ve heard that complaint from several people as of late, and it makes me wonder about the merit of having two accounts.

I’m really not sure where to go from here.  I know this process will likely work itself out in an organic manner as these things tend to do with emerging technologies, but what will that process yield for us at its conclusion?

To end, I’ll have to go back to the beginning, and ask a question.  If I started letting more of my life into Twitter, would you stop following me?

*UPDATED CONCLUSION: March 28

After posting this yesterday, I’ve come to realize I did a tremendously poor job ending this post.  My intention was to frame the question more in a global fashion, and instead, I managed to focus it entirely on myself.  I apologize for that.  Please give me the chance to take a mulligan on the closing.  Here is what I really meant to say.

To end, I have to go back to our beginning.  Well, the beginning of an end to some regards.  We’ve been enjoying many of our social networking sites in the comfort of the audience with which we grew.  For Twitter, that was somewhat of a niche audience focused in technology and social media.  Now, as people from all walks of our lives begin signing on and joining in, the question becomes, “What do we do as our worlds collide?”  Thank you, George Costanza for that classic episode.  As Matt said in the comments, he’s long wondered what he will do when his parents join Facebook.  That’s how I really meant to end this post.  How will our expectations and experiences change with social networks as they begin to aggregate people from all areas of our lives in one location?  I remember what George said.

Thanks to Vanderlin for the Flickr image.

On Thursday, January 22nd, I became a father.  Life hands us many unfathomably incredible experiences as we live it, but none can compare to seeing life that you halved the responsibility in making come into existence in this world.  I must be forthright and admit, I was warned by many.  I was told it would be an amazing experience.  I was told it has to be lived to be understood.  I was told I would be overwhelmed with emotion.  But I don’t think I was told the real truth.  Nobody warned me what it was really going to be like.

Nobody told me…
-your wife becomes an even closer treasure as she shares your joy in parenthood
-you’ll lose the capacity to speak when holding your child for the first time
-there is no chance you’re not thinking about him every waking moment
-no obstacle seems insurmountable if overcoming it means his life will be made better
-you think about him and you lose the ability to stop a smile
-you see a portion of your living purpose rise and fall with each breath he takes
-there is no greater pride than that which lives because he does
-sustaining his life is the greatest cause you will champion in your life

I was thinking about this tonight as I was driving to pick up some needed baby supplies, and I found that in simply ten minutes of his absence, I missed him incredibly.  And then I realized, my experience is not unique.  It is something hopefully every parent has the joy of living.  And it means something beyond just my own indescribable emotions.

As I was reflecting, I was struck by the thought that this experience was sustained by every parent of the roughly 10,000 students being educated in the district where I work.  And in that moment, I was overwhelmed.

Each of those parents entrusts me and my colleagues with that which they most dearly treasure.  They trust us to do what is best for their children.  Someday in the near future, I will place my trust in the same way in those who will endeavor to educate my son.  It suddenly brings a great sense of focus to my professional purpose.

I am the Instructional Technology Coordinator for a school district in the northwest suburbs of Chicago.  My job exists so that I might bring vision, clarity, and purpose to the utilization of technology in a student’s learning experience.  We are all aware of just how important this has become in the age in which we live.

My son’s birth has brought with it an unexpected sense of clarity.  A focus on what is important.  I’ve been caught up in some very insightful, meaningful discussions lately, but I’m beginning to wonder if it isn’t time to disengage a bit from that space.  I know there were several very powerful, purposeful conferences that took place this past week, but I’m beginning to wonder if that’s where my attention should be.

So many are engaging in discussions that seem to be resounding loudly only as echoes against the walls of the chamber from which they are being contained.  A cry for change is bellowed, but does the cry carry the weight and momentum necessary to exact real change?  Are we focusing energy trying to move the immovable boulder rather than finding ways to push the pebbles we know we could push if we really wanted to?

Jen Wagner put it very succinctly recently with her challenge to move away from the circular discussions and put one foot in front of the other on a path of practical progress.  I think that’s the direction in which I need to start moving.  I have influence in areas of my life where more change could be manifested if I stopped thinking in global terms and started moving locally.

If I think of my own son, and consider that my passion and dedication to his life are truly multiplied 10,000 times over in my own district, I can readily find the motivation I need to keep fighting for what I believe is the best and in the best interest of the parents and students which I serve.

It’s time for me to readjust the focus and start seeing things through the lens of fatherhood.  I believe this could be the view that changes many things for me in a very profoundly positive way.

I don’t think I’m a fan of the whole 21st Century Literacies concept.  I think there’s something fundamentally wrong with the entire approach.  I did say “think”, so I’m still working through all this.  Let me explain.

The traditional definition of the term “literacy” means to be literate.  This comes from the most current version of Webster’s Dictionary.  That begets the question, what does it mean to be literate?  Again, according to Webster, being literate is being able to read and write.  Typically, traditional literacy also includes speaking and listening as well.  So, if this is the case, what’s the 21st Century distinction of the term?

I believe this is where the whole notion is lost on me.  If we’re talking about literacy, let’s talk about literacy, as in reading, writing, speaking, and listening.  If we’re talking about other skills that people need to be successful in the modern era, then we’re probably talking about skills rather than literacies.  If we’re being specific about these skills applying uniquely to the 21st century, we should probably call them such.  Although, are there really any skills that are being called 21st Century Skills that are new in the 21st century?  Think about it.  The Partnership for 21st Century Skills believes demonstrating originality, communicating, being open and responsive, acting on creative ideas, utilizing time efficiently, accessing information, etc. are all 21st Century Skills.  I’d retort that in reality, these skills have always been in existence and of the utmost importance.  They don’t need to have the 21st Century moniker on them to make them significant.

And I think that’s the heart of the issue for me.  The whole idea of qualifying all of these skills, or even literacies if you want to adopt a broader sense of the term beyond the traditional, with 21st Century confuses what the real focus should be.

A perfect example of this is a discussion I heard recently on the “It’s Elementary” podcast.  Angela Maiers was the guest, and at the beginning of the conversation, she established her working definition of 21st Century Literacies. She gave a definition that included the traditional aspects of literacy as well as collaborating, investigating, and communicating.  A few minutes after stating her definition, she explained that all of this comes from research that is over 5 decades old.  Again, if what we’re talking about is what we’ve been talking about for so long, why do we feel the need to throw the catchy buzzword in?  Why can’t we just accept that we’re still talking about traditional literacy?  Why this great sense of urgency to rename it?

Coincidentally, while I disagree with Maiers’ naming conventions, I do believe her approach to teaching literacy as she explains later in the show is dead on.  She talks about teaching kids to inference and reach deeper levels of comprehension, and she advocates that we stop focusing so much on the oral fluency piece devoid of comprehension.  Being one who has witnessed many assessments that only test students based on their oral fluency rate, and then places them in intervention groups based on that rate, I can say that I wholeheartedly agree with Maiers on this.  I just really wish she wouldn’t call that type of instruction 21st Century Literacy instruction.  Simply put, she should just call it excellent literacy instruction.

It’s rather self-evident that society has changed dramatically over the past 100 years, and the way we engage students has changed as well, but the fact remains that the primary vehicle we use to educate is still an iteration of communication.  Technology is playing a vital role in the way we will hopefully shift from an industrial model of educating to a new learning-centric model that has yet to develop, but the technology itself isn’t the point.  The 21st Century whatevers aren’t the point.  The point is learning.  I believe if people were more prone to discard the rhetoric and engage in true learning, the conversation about what we call it would be rendered rather moot.

Thanks to Ken-ichi for the Flickr image.

What if we stopped for just a moment, took a step back, and asked why?  Why are we engaging in education the way we are right now?  Why is it that the modern construct of education not only looks the way that it does, but why are we using it?

Maybe a better way to frame this would be, if we were to stop and start over entirely, what would that look like?

I was sitting with a group of educators recently, and I paused for a moment and looked around at who I was with.  There were teachers from different districts, different grade levels, different experience levels, and different philosophies, but they are all working toward a common goal.  At least I assume they are.  They are trying to educate our youth.  But what exactly does that mean?

I recently read a tweet by someone I can’t currently remember that said students of today are more equipped and prepared now than at any point in history to be successful in the Industrial Age.  I believe that’s both true and alarming.  And it means something.  It means we might not be getting it right.

I return to one of my original thoughts.  If we were to start over, what would it look like?  We’re currently so stuck in our paradigm that I fear we can’t remove ourselves and look objectively at this question.  We are so entrenched with our current infrastructure, our teaching structure, and even our institutional structure, that to really move away from what we’re currently doing might turn out to be too large a Goliath to fell.

Focusing briefly on American education, and I don’t mean to be too American-centric, but that’s the system I’m most aware of, we see how change has happened quite incrementally over the past 350 years.  In the mid-1600′s, the focus of education was almost exclusively on writing, reading, and religious education.  From there, we can see a history of slow, incremental changes from a system where students were largely taught by one schoolmaster, who focused on the aforementioned subjects, to the system in which we currently find ourselves immersed.

This time line accentuates the point nicely.  I think it’s quite telling that there were several attempts at reform throughout our history, but I’d argue none were truly successful.  Of interest is the founding of the Progressive Education Association in 1919, where a major effort was launched to create an educational environment in which students were the center of education, and by so being, should be allowed to express themselves more creatively and independently.  Sounds like we’re still working on that 90 years later.

When looking down the time line, it’s readily apparent that despite all the efforts, research, hours of labor, and investment in improving our educational model, all we’ve really accomplished is the perpetuation of all that we’ve previously done.  There hasn’t been a true reform.  There’s been no revolution.  There remains largely that which has always been.

The most difficult part of all this is determining what has value and what has been done because that’s what we’ve always done.  If we really started over, what would we keep because it’s worth keeping?  What would we cast away because it doesn’t have relevance in our emerging system?  And most importantly, what would be our goal?

I think that’s the starting point.  It all begins with a question.  What’s the goal of education?  I don’t ask that flippantly, but rather quite honestly.  If we have any hope of making true change, this is where it starts.  At the core.  At the foundation.  At the very center of all we do.

So I say we try it.  At least in conversation.  Let’s rebuild our educational system.  And let’s start with a question.

What’s the goal of education today?

Thanks to CoryMarchand for the Flickr image.