Do.Think.Learn (DTL) has three big obstacles to overcome. First, getting the word out in the community about who we are and all that we do. Second, is convincing folks that while we don’t offer the social resources larger schools do, what we offer in terms of building confidence and skills outweighs not hanging out with your friends for a few hours each day. Third, people have a hard time believing we are a real school or that I’m a real teacher. I have devoted a bit of time to the first two issues, but recently the needle on the turntable of my life is stuck on that third issue.
A potential student stopped me during a recent admission interview to ask me if I was really a teacher. When I started telling him about our school day and projects, he interrupted again and asked if Do.Think.Learn was an actual school. A few days later I ran into some former colleagues at Trader Joe’s. When I told them about the work I do with Do.Think.Learn they paused and politely said, “ that’s nice.” They did well not to roll their eyes in front of me. Whatever, even some of my friends look at Do.Think. Learn as some curious oddity than a real school. I get those questions quite a bit.
These somewhat innocuous questions and responses ooze deeper issues. When a student asks these questions, it usually indicates curiosity and astonishment. When a grown up asks such things it usually means that they have been zombified by the Business as Usual Model of education. While the real teacher query has a ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ layer. If we push a bit further, we arrive at people’s preconceived ideas of what it means to be a teacher and what the profession of teaching involves.
The real school query cuts straight into the public’s notion of what schooling and education involves. In several of the schools I have worked in, parents have said they enrolled their students because they “wanted something different.” However, when we provided “something different” those parents freaked out. That hits at the crux of why transforming school tends to bog down.
Schooling remains one of the few businesses that still holds tight to the problematic mantra “that’s how we’ve always done it.” So when new models for schooling emerge, many parents remain reluctant to try them despite ample evidence that traditional school models continue to fail their students.
Real Teacher?
I’ve gotten the “real teacher” question far longer than the “real school” question. Both queries continue to make me pause and reexamine my public persona and professional choices. Aside from occasionally changing the decor or upgrading my wardrobe at school, not a whole lot has changed for me.
Back in the day one of my students told me she appreciated that I “keep it real.” I like that. Plus, adolescents are a weird moving work in progress so being a little quirkier than they are, provides connection in most situations. Students tend to appreciate an honest, straightforward approach. They’re so used to adults blowing smoke up their @$$ or talking down to them that they find honesty refreshing and accessible. They also don’t do boring. If you make work fun, and play serious business - that transforms the school day in a variety of ways. Maybe I do have to “look the part” more, but why?
Students and parents often have ingrained ideas about teachers - what we look like… how we dress… how we talk and act in class. The education system in many places still clings to the traditional model of teacher appearance and behavior. While appearance and behavior have nothing to do with a teacher’s professionalism or ability to teach, we live in a world in which a large majority of books are purchased or read based on their covers. If I wear a tie, does that make me a better teacher? If my shirt is untucked, am I therefore a worse teacher? Such constraints only reinforce many traditional notions of professionalism. I suspect that these traditions also remain in place as a nod towards ideas of respect. But, will my students really respect me more if I’m wearing a tie? Sure some may show some cursory respect, but real respect is earned. Cursory respect is really just sucking up. Some schools (mostly independent and charters) have begun to reshape these ideas - allowing more casual attire or allowing students to call teachers by their first name.
Sometimes the teacher who really looks the part is just a poseur. Real teaching means building trust; supporting students’ well being; as well as, examining deconstructing ideas or data. An actual teacher guides a student across the bridge from not knowing to knowing. That knowledge includes who they are; who they want to be, how they work; as well as how to discuss, question, and present a variety of ideas or issues.
Now maybe I’m a poser in many areas of my life, but as a teacher I work hard to speak my truth and encourage each student to speak their truth. I tell it like it is. Sometimes I wear shorts to school. Some of the stories I tell push the limits of appropriateness. On a few occasions…wait, let’s leave it there. All of that aside, I do what it takes to support and guide my students beyond what they think is possible. I don’t blow smoke up their ass (wait do real teachers say ass?). When they fall down I help them back up, dust them off, and get them going again. I help them figure out how their wings work so they can fly wherever they want to go. So feel free to look down your nose at me and my teaching style - but yeah, I’m a real teacher.
Real School?
Most people have an image in their mind about what a school looks like and how learning happens in a school. Usually they picture a brick and mortar structure that resembles a combination of a prison and outdoor mall. Perhaps they envisioon a low slung building that stretches from K to whatever; or maybe an imposing edifice that oozes tradition and rigor. All of these images are accurate, but schools exist in other ways and in other types of places.
Not many people flinch when you tell them that the people who designed schools also designed prisons. Let that sink in. What does that say about school and learning? One of the issues facing education in America is that too many people think that for real learning to occur it has to happen in a building that screams school. In order for education to regain meaning we have to consider that real learning and real teaching can happen in a multitude of places and structures (some schools don’t even have buildings). School is where learning happens. Unfortunately too often when I tell people about DTL, they smile politely and say “Wow, that’s exciting” before walking away, scoffing, and dismissing my school.
In the five years DTL has existed we began in a garage before moving into a shared work space office (during the pandemic school moved into a backyard). When we moved into the office, students didn’t flinch. Some parents question the set up, but students dig it. Even the student who’s yard we’d been using was psyched to move into the new office. Our office neighbors run start ups, investment groups, and do some lawyering. The engineers engineer. While others create and edit various media (primarily podcasts and films). Everyday students see people working and experience a professional workplace. In this environment, school becomes a professional endeavor not something you endure until adulthood.
DTL take their school responsibilities seriously, but still have a good time. Students actually want to come to school. They get a set of keys and those who drive get a parking spot. In this setting, school takes on a level of professionalism that elevates learning and school. And while many people disparage teenagers, our neighbors treat DTL students, if not like equals, like professional colleagues. This has a huge influence on how students think about school. Feel free to shake your head at our location, but this setup is pro and our students respond accordingly.
“I built that road and walked every mile”
Teachers teach in school but school does not alway happen in large educational holding pens. If we expand where and how learning happens educators can better meet the needs of all students. By diversifying what and where school happens we will have schools that work for all families and youth.
Not long ago, I lost a potential student when his former school said the DTL was not a real school (not accredited). Now accreditation is tricky business for microschools. The ‘rules’ prove difficult for many microschools that don’t meet the criteria for number of staff or enrollment. Bureaucracy is necessary but often suffocates creativity and innovation. So despite the fact that DTL would better meet this student’s academic and mental health needs, which would enable them to hopefully re-enroll in his previous school rather quickly, that esteemed institution instead preferred that he sign up for an internet school that provided instruction solely via you tube videos and online worksheets. That ‘real’ school ended up doing more harm than good.
Microschools and microschooling continue to emerge and evolve as a viable alternative to traditional schooling. As a (micro) school Do.Think.Learn has come a long way and continues to evolve. The students and I do the work everyday. I know their work is comparable and more meaningful than much of the work being done in other schools around the country. Professor Geneva Gay used to tell us that want to change the staus quo “you make the road by walking it.” Well, as a teacher, I walk the road everyday. My students and I do the work and walk their road each and everyday. Every step shapes their school experience and DTL’s identity.
Let’s go back to answer the original questions… School at DTL looks a bit different than most schools but we walk the road and keep it real. We strip away the fat to make learning meaningful, flexible, and personal. We build students up and respect who they are and who they want to be. Still some will say we’re not a real school. To those folks, come on by - I can show the registration paperwork from the state that says DTL is a real school, but I’d rather you just check out our students and their work. This real school focuses more on student success rather than the usual BS of schooling.