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Push Button Make Go

My 6-year-old knows how our Subaru works – push the button to make it go. My 9-year-old knows how to get anywhere – open the app and do what it says. I’m ok with this because they’re not responsible for shepherding a 3600 pound vehicle through city streets lined with people. My kids may not ever even need to drive – they may be shuttled around by cars that are summoned by a tap and exited with a swipe. 

But they will learn.

Last March the College Board changed the SAT to reflect a changing world. On the new digital test, students are allowed to use a built-in graphing calculator called Desmos, a phenomenal tool. Punch in an equation and it will solve it; type in a function and you get a graphical representation. I still teach the underlying math because being able to correctly use tools requires understanding the context in which the tool is meant to operate. It’s a decent idea to know at least a little of what you’re doing. 

School is supposed to teach kids about the world and how it works. Kids want to do this anyway – it’s literally what they’re evolved to do. When they spend a few minutes crushing a cardboard box they’re learning material science, gravitational physics, geometric thinking in two and three dimensions, structural engineering. They then get to answer the creative question of what can you do with a bunch of mostly flat cardboard? Minute for minute this has got to be one of the best returns on time from an educational perspective ever. Plus, it’s fun.

So often school focuses on deeply abstract concepts that feel removed from the systems in which the kid operates. Graphing a systems of linear equations without experiential relevance is basically meaningless, no matter how many word problems they read about buying x blackberries and y mangoes from two different stores. Without experiencing the reality of systems they’re working within, kids end up learning disparate pieces of random information without understanding the connections that create their world. They may not even learn what plants really crave. 

Over the past couple of years I’ve been building a middle school for boys that focuses on a systems approach to learning. How does water get in and out of the house? Where did it come from and where does it go? How are clothes made? How does photography work? Every unit must tie into state standards, but more importantly everything we teach must: 

  • Be a skill they can improve on
  • Be regularly observed in the real world 
  • Be useful 
  • Behave according to some underlying principle 
  • Exist within a broader systemic context

Despite driving as soon as I was able, I didn’t learn how an engine works until I pursued my pilot’s license. The FAA, and common sense, won’t let anyone fly who doesn’t have a strong understanding of the systems in an airplane and how they interconnect. Aside from being required, it’s also fun to learn about this stuff. Understanding the connections between alternator, battery, and engine in a Cessna helped me in my Subaru as well. Last month my car wouldn’t start, so I popped the hood and my son and I took a quick look. After a few minutes of cleaning the battery terminal I hopped back in, pushed the button, and made it go.

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Get Lost

I spent my kindergarten year in the wild beauty of Sante Fe. Some mornings – they were really nights – I’d accompany my mom on her four am paper route, our hands pressed against the heater as we wound our way through the dark streets before dawn broke open the day. My godfather lived in a simple cabin outside of town, and I’d spend some weekends there, walking through the rocky countryside and playing capture the flag with the big kids who lived on the other side of the ravine.

On the way back to the cabin one time, I got turned around and couldn’t remember which way I’d come. I had clambered over huge granite slabs and through the bare forest floor and so there were no easy paths or footprints to follow back. I was all alone, the pines and piñons towering around me, and so naturally my first thought was that this is where I was going to die. 

What do you do when you’re six and lost in the woods? No cell phones or smart watches, no expectation of being back at a certain time. No breadcrumbs. As Viggo Mortensen’s character Ben in Captain Fantastic tells his son, who’s dangling off a rock face with an injured hand and an impending thunderstorm looming in the background, “There’s no cavalry. No one will magically appear and save you in the end.” Sometimes you just have to figure it out.

I did not hug a tree that day and wait for the cavalry to come. No one magically appeared and shepherded me home. After some crying and some panic, I reasoned my way out. Ravines only go two directions. My godfather’s cabin was either left or it was right.

I’ve been lost plenty since. I’ve been lost on the back country roads of West Virginia, on the unforgiving trails of the Emigrant Gap wilderness, on the winding, impossibly narrow streets of Athens. After the initial panic, reason sets in and problem solving begins. I’ve never not made it. You don’t get a choice – the stakes are too high. 

What’s so valuable about getting lost is that it forces us to meet the moment. We can ask for help – that’s meeting the moment. Who can help us? What do we need? How do we ask for it? If no one’s around, help isn’t an option. Unlike so many times in school when kids are asked to problem solve but just don’t get it, there’s no white flag option. When you’re lost you can’t just raise your hand and say “I don’t get it”. No one’s going to hover over you and help you work the problem. You have to reckon with reality: the only one coming to save you is you. 

My kids haven’t had the chance to roam the forests outside of Sante Fe, and life is certainly different now than it was in 1985. Sometimes it’s a win just to get my family out of the house on a lazy Sunday afternoon. And while it’s nearly impossible to go backwards and remove the gadgets and guardrails of our modern lives, my hope for my kids – and yours – is that they’re able to venture out into our beautiful, wild, world and get lost.

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