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Volume VII, Issue No.5
In This Issue: Success and Failure
Success
and Failure
nKurt Hahn
All my work is meant to say,
"You may encounter defeats, but you must not be defeated."
If there is no struggle, there
is no progress. Those who profess to favor freedom, and to depreciate
agitation, are those who want crops without plowing up the ground.
On a small stream in Western Massachusetts, a group of teachers busied themselves with measuring tape, meter sticks, and surveying equipment. They were collecting data on water flow and stream dynamics for the Rocks, Rivers, and Caves Summitna week-long learning expedition for educators on geology. After working hard all day, they were stunned when the geologists who were leading the summit told them their findings were invalid. Measurements had not been standardized. teams had overlapped without communicating, and common reference points had not been established. When the teachers realized the degree of mistakes, they were discouraged. But, as summit leader Ron Berger said, "The day was anything but a waste." Those first mistakes gave them the tools to succeed during the next day of research.
After carefully discussing procedures for the next day, the teachers were ready to give it another try. Groups repeatedly consulted with one another, systems of organization were clarified, and those teachers who had been unconcerned with exact measurement the day before became sticklers about measurement standards. "None of this organization came from me," remarked Berger. "On the contrary, I was criticized at one point for calling out time intervals too irregularly. The team, the group, forged our precision." Through the failures of the first day, the teachers had learned what it would take to succeed the next time around.
Kurt Hahn appreciated the close interrelationship between success and failure. At Gordonstoun, the secondary school Hahn started in Scotland, students had opportunities to succeed in academics, service, athletics, and leadership. Yet success without the experience of some level of failure, he believed, brought only a limited sense of accomplishment. Hahn "valued mastery in the sphere of one’s weakness over performance in the sphere of one’s strength."1 At Gordonstoun, for instance, outstanding scholars were encouraged to work hard on the athletic field, while gifted athletes were encouraged to progress in academics. After experiencing a few inevitable setbacks, students who succeed in the face of obstacles make the greatest strides in their learning.
Expeditionary Learning classrooms nurture perseverance.They offer all students the chance to experience a certain level of success, thus building the confidence necessary to risk failure. The project work of learning expeditions offers different students the opportunity to succeed in different ways. For example, on a North Carolina Outward Bound wilderness course for educators, Amy Mednick of Expeditionary Learning felt she had failed herself when, on her solo, she sought help from her instructors during a storm. Her crew mates assured her that she was successful in getting the support she needed to make it through her solo. "It was like climbing that rockface," said Janet Weingartner, principal of Midway School in Cincinnati, Ohio. "When you couldn’t move forward, you moved laterally, and then started up again. It’s the same with our children."
In order for students to extend themselves beyond the safety of their successes, however, they must believe that if they fail along the way, they will be neither ridiculed nor rebuked. They need to have trust in their peers and teachers, as well as in themselves. This trust is built over time by fostering a sense of respect and support within the classroom community. The teachers on the geology summit, for instance, had already helped one another through the physically and emotionally challenging experience of cave exploration when they started their work on the stream. Knowing they could count on each other, they were willing to face the difficulties of revising their research.
Letting the tension of success and failure run its course can be challenging for the teacher as well as for the student. It can be tempting to intervene when a student is obviously headed down a bumpy road. When Ron Berger watched from the bank of the stream as teachers bungled their measurements, it was hard for him not to shout teacherly advice from the sidelines: "Do it this wayOe.Start hereOe.That won’t workOe.Set yourselves up at regular intervals." He refrained because he knew that the teachers’ missteps were essential to their learning. Because the teachers had experienced for themselves why and how they needed to do their research differently, they were able to bring their work to a more sophisticated level. In fact, John Reid, a professor of geology at Hampshire College in Amherst, Massachusetts, and co-leader of the summit, said he would like to use the teachers’ findings as a basis for a professional paper. As Ron Berger said, "Suddenly that wasted day did not seem so wasted after all."
To order the book Reflections on Design Principles,please contact our publisher, Kendall-Hunt, at 1-800-228-0810.
"Me and My Butterflies " When my daughter, Moriah, was in kindergarten 15 years ago, her school system required that all students receive report cards with letter grades. She arrived home baffled by the slip of paper she was carrying. "Mom, why were some kids crying when they got this paper? What is an iF i? What is a iC i? What does iA i mean? "
There is false failure as well as false success, and false failure can be as undermining to one is confidence as false success. We owe it to children and each other to provide and structure opportunities that enhance the opportunities for success. Success can never be guaranteed for if it is there was no risk or growth involved. False success is the hollow accolades showered upon others for shallow work accomplished without effort. We can try to fool others or ourselves, but inside we know whether or not we deserved the applause.
Success and Failure might be my favorite of the ten design principles of Expeditionary Learning Outward Bound. It certainly is the one that has offered me the most hope and comfort. I hate admitting failure to myself or others. But facing my failures has been the source of my greatest learning. Success and Failure is the design principle about facing and telling the truth about oneself. This requires courage and the support of others. Looking into the mirror of failure is just too scary to do if one feels entirely alone in the world.
Take a school, for example, in which the teachers are trying hard and have hearts of good intention, but the students are performing at very low levels. It takes great courage for the faculty to face the results of their work and say, "We want to improve and we want to create a culture and systems that will help us continue to improve. We need to support each other in figuring out other ways of creating a learning environment for our children and ourselves. " It is often after these conversations that a faculty will explore, then decide to adopt Expeditionary Learning Outward Bound as their comprehensive school reform design. The whole process of annual school reviews is really about a school looking into the mirror each year and assessing where there has been growth and where there have been setbacks and where the most energy should be directed in the coming year. It can be done in perfunctory, cursory fashion na glance at the mirror nor it can be a thoughtful chance to face the truth nsuccesses as well as failures nin order to learn and improve.
Failures are not random missiles from outer space. We spin them, we make them, we cause them. This means we can learn ways to avoid them in the future. If our common planning times are just short of dysfunctional, let us admit failure and make a plan for success. Let us not waste our precious time pretending we are succeeding when we are not.
Growing up under the shadow of Sputnik, my elementary school began science projects in second grade. I worked hard and won a ribbon. In third grade, the same. When I was in fourth grade, I did a sloppy job on, "Me and My Butterflies. " The ink was blotchy, the research skimpy, and there was no evidence of following the scientific method. But by then I felt entitled to breezy success. When my project did not even place in the competition, I was devastated and surprised.
I went to complain to my teacher. "Was this your best work? " was her first question to me. She did not need to say another word. I took my seat. I was like everybody else. I was going to have to work for my successes and learn from my failures.
Meg Campbell is executive director of Expeditionary Learning Outward Bound.
Bay
Ridge, Brooklyn: Exploring these questions and
qualities led to an interdisciplinary study. The English, social
studies, and Spanish classes began an inquiry into mythology and
folklore. The math teacher dug into archives to retrieve information
about life in Bay Ridge when the senior citizens were eleven years
old, and students then compiled this information into flow charts.
Technology students incorporated these findings as well as others
into an impressive multimedia display. Finally, all of this hard
work culminated in a gallery opening for the community that included
oil paintings, interactive technology, statistical data, and a performance
installation.
As the students worked on the oral histories in their creative writing class, it was my responsibility to facilitate the painting of portraits in oil. Before they could even begin to think of applying paint to canvas, however, we had to lay months of painstaking groundwork. Most students came equipped with minimal skills, possessing that cryptic, primary language of figure drawing with which we all are familiar. It gives me great satisfaction to watch them now as they compare their very first draft to their final product. Their expressions are a hybrid of wonder, faith, empowerment, and pride.
I wanted to begin by demystifying the skill of drawing. I asked them to draw draft after draft after draft of the same subject, a life-size photographic portrait of a Nigerian girl. I felt that if the subject were constant, yet the skills we used differed each time, we would be better able to chart our growth. We were inspired by the words of the mountain climber Richard Nelson, "You may learn as much by climbing the same mountain one hundred times as by climbing one hundred different mountains." Through multiple drafts, we developed our skills of drawing, color theory, manipulating oil paint, and learning to draw what we see, rather than what we think we see. Many times we had to rescue drafts from the wastepaper basket after someone tossed them in frustration. It is much easier to tear down and deconstruct than it is to create. Each day I was asking these children to breathe life into a piece of paper. It was an excruciating request. It was hard to see my gentle student, Hussain, cry quietly after I refused to accept his words "I canit." I swallowed hard, pushed his drawing paper pimpled with tears back in front of him for his twentieth attempt and said "You will." I always acknowledged their discomfort and assured them that, with their faith and perseverance, they would master the skills that would allow them to create images they were pleased with.
We all kept journals, one for words, and one for images. At times they became the receptacles of disappointment, fear, pride, and progress. Amarah, one of my students, wrote in her journal: "If you think youire not good at art, donit believe it. Everyone is an artist deep down. You just have to uncover it. Put your mind to it and you can do just about anything you want. Just reach deep down and pull hard." We read the journals of Vincent van Gogh and Paul Gauguin, seeking inspiration in their work, learning humility through their struggles. We recognized through their writing that their powers of expression were not limited to the canvas. These artists became wonderful exemplars of the art of literary articulation, reflection, and creating images with words. They were helping me to confirm and convey the belief that art is not merely a modality, but an intellect.
We looked at portraits in oil created by van Gogh and Gauguin using simple guidelines for viewing art: What do you see? How does it make you feel? How do you think the artist felt about his subject? Support your answers with details from the painting. With this recipe, we began to have interesting and intelligent conversations about paintings.
There were moments when I quietly wondered if perhaps I had set the stakes too high. After all, oil painting with seventy-five eleven-year-olds with limited space, time, and money, was a lofty, if not insurmountable, goal. Few middle school students ever have the opportunity to paint in oil. It is a costly and challenging medium. But I believe that students produce higher quality art when they use the tools of artists. I carried on in spite of myself, with a little solace in thinking that this is just the way Expeditionary Learning likes itnslightly out of reach. We did, however, improve our skills enough to undertake our task of painting portraits in oil.
Breathing Life into Canvas
Our classroom became a beehive of activity as students stretched and primed their canvases in preparation for the portraits of the seniors. The passion, precision, and cooperation with which they worked was intoxicating. I watched in amazement as an extra pair of hands would appear when a student had difficulty both tugging and stapling a canvas, or, when a batch of gesso (canvas primer) was exhausted, someone would instantaneously whip one up. All this occurred without my ever having to issue a directive. It was exactly what I had dreamed this experience would be for these children, but I never imagined the power it would have over me. When all the canvases were ready, each student selected a photograph of a senior citizen they had a particular affinity for. Not every child had the opportunity to interview the seniors. It was just a logistical impossibility. In the true spirit of oral tradition, however, all those who had firsthand contact with the elders were required to tell those who did not the tales of their subjects. It was a wrinkle that turned into an asset, as it allowed the students to practice the art of oral tradition. This, coupled with extensive work on the impact of line, light, and brush stroke when rendering age and capturing individual characteristics, helped us prepare for the portraits in oil. The photos became a permanent part of our daily lives for months. I remain bewildered, how with oil- and turpentine-stained hands, constant shuffling, and interclass sharing these photographs survived unscathed. It was almost as if the students had imparted the reverence they had for the elders into these two-dimensional photographs.
With the photos of their elders in hand, the painters began to practice steps of portraiture. They each completed approximately four drafts in pencil on paper, four drafts in color on paper, a charcoal drawing on canvas, and an underpainting on the same canvas. Once they completed that process, they were ready to begin painting in oil. Slowly and Painstakingly the portraits emerged. I was so impressed that I was often moved to tears, not only by the paintings, but by the painters themselves. The quiet dignity with which the students devoted not only to their craft, but to their subjects as well, exceeded my greatest expectations. In past portraits, the students often noticed how they seemed to paint an element of themselves when painting subjects. Indeed, it was true of this project yet something had changed. It was not an element of their image that they had endowed this painting with, it was an element of their spirit. A gift, I suspected, that would be returned tenfold.
As magically as the portraits began, they ended, each child somehow sensing its completion. I never challenged their decisions of when their work was complete. I did not have to. I was always in agreement with their instincts. We had worked many months creating an atmosphere of trust, respect, compassion, and high standards. I now had to let go and allow them to flourish.
It is a curious thing to think back to the beginning of the expedition, when the students and I discussed what would be done with their paintings when they were finished. We decided we would auction them and perhaps donate a few of the paintings to the senior center. When I asked how many students would donate their canvases to the cause, 99 percent of the students raised their hands with little hesitation. I would later come to find that less than 5 percent of the students were willing to give their canvases to auction once they were completed. The 5 percent who said they were willing to auction their work confided in me that they had arranged with their parents to offer the highest bid.
This, however, did not mean the abandonment of the service component of our expedition. It merely compelled us to examine more closely the concept of "service." Upon careful consideration, we concluded that our service component, in its original form, would have represented a closing of a chapter, an obligation met, a good deed done. I am grateful and humbled by what our service component turned into and continues to be long after the expedition has come to a close. Service for us was not merely a donated oil painting, but the gift of compassion, recognition, friendship, and respect. A gift whose patina grows richer each day through the ongoing relationships that began with this expedition and have continued into the next year. True friendship is reciprocal. This we learned through our expedition. These were not merely people to be talked to for our own purposes, then sent on their way with a lovely parting gift. They were, and are, an intricate thread in the delicate fabric of our communal lives. We are richer for serving one another.
With this significant change in our course charted, we had only to await our authentic audience. The audience was responsible in part for the level of quality in the studentsi work. Not only would teachers, parents, Expeditionary Learning representatives, and the community at large be in attendance, but the very subjects of the expedition would be present. This coupled with high expectations and the somewhat privileged medium of oil painting became the recipe for stellar results.
With sparkling cider and cheese refreshments, Benny Goodman music, an inviting rocking chair for story telling, and multimedia works of art on display, we opened the gallery doors to our audience. No one could have prepared us for what was to come. The elders poured in, enthusiastically examining the projects and offering great praise for their skill and craftsmanship. Several of the seniors beamed and giggled as they discovered themselves immortalized in oil. I overheard two women in conversation marvel at the amount of times "the Captainis" portrait had been painted. They surmised, with a chuckle, that this newly acquired fame would catapult the Captainis ego into mythic status. As I glanced across the room, I noticed Mary, a senior neighbor, sit down in the rocking chair to hear one of the students tell the stories she had learned during the expedition. Mary rocked back and forth rhythmically, languishing in the reverence and accuracy of the tale.
Then, subtly at first, the focus of the gallery seemed to shift as each community elder began to seek out his or her student counterpart. It almost appeared as if the entire scene was staged. As the pairs of child and elder moved about the gallery, many arm in arm, one did not have to hear a single conversation in order to understand what was said. It was choreography at its most sublime, it was performance art at its most provocative, it was a story told to be told again. It was a living gallery.
Bayan Ebeid teaches math and creative writing at the Brooklyn, New York, middle school I.S. 30. Laura Kelly teaches art and English as a Second Language to middle school students at I.S. 30 in Brooklyn, New York.
The new book Service at the Heart of Learning: Teachersi Voices will be available in June. To order contact, Kendall-Hunt at 1-800-228-0810.
Success
and Failure:
Little and Big Victories By Patricia Boone
In the American Heritage School, when we speak of student progress we say, "Either you have it, or you don't have it yet."
One student, Valerie, had it alln almost. While she understood the content and mastered the skills of our expedition into the Americas, she just could not express herself orally. However, when Barnes and Noble invited us to bring our best presenters to speak to their Christmas patrons, we included Valerie. She practiced every day and showed some improvement, but she still didnit have itn yet. On the night of our performance, students presented as many seven or eight times in different parts of the store. At best we could call Valerieis first two presentations mediocre. Then, suddenly she had this great epiphany about the injustices and sufferings in her country and Valerie found her voice. She became animated and almost militant. Barnes and Noble customers gathered from all over the store to hear her speak. The audience grew and grew and the ovations became stronger. Valerie had it all.
One never knows what will change failure to success or when it will happen. Incorporating this design principle into our school ethic has turned students around, not all as dramatically as it changed Valerie, but students see daily that working smart and being open to revision and practice can and does bring successn little and big victories. Patricia Boone is director of American Heritage School, a magnet school on the Poe middle School campus in San Antonio, Texas.
Success is Failure Turned Inside Out By Judith Robert
"I am so tired of always turning in an assignment and having to do it over," complained Sequoira. "One of our design principles is Success and Failure. It seems it should say Failure and Success." "Why, do you feel that way?" asked Somoan. "Mrs. Roberts never assesses our papers or projects until we have reworked or rewritten them several times." "That is true. I guess I should remember the story she told us about Thomas Edison. We would not have the light bulb or any other of his inventions if he felt like I do," commented Sequoira. "Hi, Sequoira and Somoan, what are you looking so serious about?" asked Scari. "We were just talking about success and failure," answered Somoan. "Do you not remember what we hear all the time from Mrs. Roberts? If at first you donit succeed, try, try again," remarked Scari. "Yes, we do hear that a lot. I was just reminding Sequoria about Thomas Edison. Mrs. Roberts told us the statement he made when someone asked him about his failing 179 times when he was trying to invent the light bulb. He did not look at that as failure. He said it was letting him know that was not the correct way to invent the light bulb. He always looked at his work as just figuring the right way to do something not as failure." "Maybe if I look at doing a first draft, second or even a third draft like Mr. Edison, I could change the way I feel," remarked Sequoria. "You would only have success if you take your own advice," said Somoan. "Okay Somoan, read this story and critique it. I need to turn in another draft or maybe I might turn failure inside out this time and move on to another assignment," concluded Sequoria. "That is taking a positive outlook," said Somoan. "I think sometimes you have to experience failure in order to understand what success is." "Somoan, you have just stated what Mr. Edison thought when he had to try again and again when he was working on his inventions."
Judith Roberts is a fifth-grade teacher at Springdale Elementary School in Memphis, Tennessee. Launching a Marshmallow By Beverly Harris
As educators we often communicate to the students, verbally or nonverbally, the importance of being successful in their endeavors. We tend to perceive failure as a negative consequence. And students eventually internalize that same attitude toward failure to the point of not attempting to do something they feel will result in failure.
The design principle of Success and Failure helps the students to overcome the reluctance to take on new challenges. In science, the students were assigned to design a catapult that would launch a marshmallow a certain distance. They were given a limited amount of materials to use in the construction of the catapult. The studentsi initial reaction was, "How are we going to do this with only these sticks and a block of wood?" But through collaboration, redesigning, and much testing, each student contributed to designing a catapult that actually launched a marshmallow the required distance.
Beverly Harris is a teacher at American Heritage School in San Antonio, Texas. Converting the Child By Ruth Replogle
When kids get to me, they are scared to death to try anything for fear of failure. They are so used to having their work "red penciled" that they have a hard time dealing with feedback in the form of Post-it notes. I never mark on a studentis work. In fact, I generally ask my students for permission to give them feedback, which is not hard to get as they usually want to have their hands held through all the steps of a given project.
I have to teach them to seek feedback from their peers first. As they see what others are doing, my students see that everyone has strengths and weaknesses. In this context, there is no such thing as failure, which connotes a terminal state, just the chance to "do it better."
It should be noted that the glue on the Post-it note was originally supposed to stick permanently. It was a "failure." Thomas Edison had over 10,000 "failures" on the road to inventing the light bulb. Most multimillionaires failed several times before fortunes were made. It seems to me that as educators, we need to be aware of what the subversive level (translated: most fun and spiritually uplifting) of teaching is really all about. Itis not the subject matter that the child absorbs that is the most important thing. The real mission of a teacher is to convert a child to the belief that she or he is a learner and not a passive digester of school "episodes." There is nothing that turns me on as much as seeing a withdrawn, discouraged student go from just "going through the motions" to getting so involved in a project that she or he forgets the time and has to E-mail me later to relate something newly discovered.
Ruth Replogle is a teacher at Cross Creek School in Pompano Beach, Florida.
Leo Snow, teacher and co-leader of the Cherokee Nation summit, has conducted research that lead to the discovery of the rifle believed to have been used to execute the legendary Cherokee historical figure Tsali. The gun, which Snow uncovered in a storage cabinet at the Mountain Heritage Museum at Western Carolina University, is on display at the Museum of Cherokee Indian in Cherokee, North Carolina.
According to Snow's research, Tsali was among many Cherokee who refused to move west under the orders of the 1935 Treaty of New Echota, which North Carolina Cherokees had not signed and did not believe was valid. In spring, 1938 military troops began forcefully removing the Cherokee. With other Cherokees who hid, as hundreds of fellow Cherokees died in stockades, Tsali and his family concealed themselves throughout the summer in holes under river banks or in camouflaged shelters of mud and stone in the mountains.
In October young Lieutenant Smith found the familyis hiding place and held a surprise attack, mistreating women and children. It seems that when the dust cleared one soldier had been beaten with a gun and an ax was buried in another soldieris forehead. Two soldiers died immediately and a third died later of his wounds, according to Snowis account.
The Cherokee family fled and dispersed. Tsali was eventually captured or surrendered, found guilty of murder, and executed. A white settler who had witnessed the execution obtained one of the weapons used. The rifle changed hands many times until it was given to the museum, Snow writes.
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