I’ve been reading To Kill a Mockingbird for the first time since eighth grade. I have fond memories of Ms. Clark reading this classic aloud. She dimmed the lights for a calming, dramatic effect. Her reading was evocative and inspiring. The images of Maycomb are vivid to me even now. The subject matter would prohibit me from doing so, but imagine I instructed my seven-year-old daughter to read To Kill a Mockingbird. She could piece together most of the words and sentences. When she confronted unfamiliar words she could ask for help. By the end of the book she would have a good sense of the story, enough so that she too might be upset and saddened by the injustices Harper Lee so powerfully unfurls. She’s literate, is she not?

As I am coming to understand, the question ought not to be binary; either my daughter is literate, or she is not. Rather, we should ask: How literate is she? Between now and the time my daughter is in eighth grade and more fortified to digest such a book, she will read more about the history of the South. In particular she will likely broaden her understanding of its complex cultural history. Perhaps we’ll even visit. It is sad but true: In the next six years she will expand her understanding of topics related to race relations, prejudice, and injustice. This knowledge will deepen her literacy. When at last she takes up To Kill a Mockingbird her comprehension—and therefore literacy—will be far greater and more meaningful. The joy and heartache she experiences while reading will be more profound.

I am writing this newsletter with a two-fold purpose in mind. First, I’d like to encourage our understanding of literacy to move beyond simple reading and comprehension. A higher degree of literacy enables us to fathom depths of meaning that set the stage for us to consider with greater acumen the questions: What is the author saying? What do I think about this and why? How should I live in light of this literature? Deeper understanding is a prerequisite for being a more circumspect individual and citizen. In a culture super-saturated in propaganda, this kind of thoughtfulness is essential to preserving and promoting a person’s unique identity, and equipping each individual for the task of shaping a strong civil society. Second, I’m setting in place a springboard from which I’d like to explore the importance of boosting our media and relational literacy. In the newsletters that follow you will, I trust, find common threads that have immediate implications for how we choose to interact with our world.

Tags: divergent learning, literacy

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The following exchange—taken from the 1987 film Raising Arizona—between prison inmate Hi (played by Nicolas Cage) and his parole board ranks high on my list of memorable dialogues:

Parole board chairman: They’ve got a name for people like you, Hi. That name is called “recidivism.” Repeat offender! Not a pretty name, is it, Hi?

Hi: No, sir. That’s one bonehead name, but that ain’t me anymore.

Parole board chairman: You’re not just telling us what we want to hear?

Hi: No, sir, no way.

Parole board member: ‘Cause we just want to hear the truth.

Hi: Well, then I guess I am telling you what you want to hear.

Parole board chairman: Boy, didn’t we just tell you not to do that?

Hi: Yes, sir.

Parole board chairman: Okay, then.

Like so much in life, this scene is funny because it reflects something true about human nature. The parole board is dubious of Hi’s claims to reform. They don’t see him as someone capable of making anything other than “bonehead” choices. Our perceptions of others, especially people we consider challenging or complex, inform our expectations of their behavior and abilities. You have probably read studies in which school administrators tell teachers their classes comprise either high- or low-achieving students. The teachers believe this assessment and set expectations commensurate with their perception of student capabilities. Though the classes are actually homogenous, as far as previous performance is concerned, the “high-achieving” students outperform the “low achievers.”

We are all prone to categorizing others. This person is stingy. That person is particular. In many respects we can’t help this, nor is there anything wrong with forming perceptions. How can we not? We can enhance the health of our personal and professional relationships by making these perceptions pliable. Doing so extends to others an opportunity to teach us. When we become students of others we allow them to clarify our perceptions. Our relationships are then more authentic because they are rooted in a more accurate understanding of the other.

I find the following thought experiment to be rewarding, especially in reference to my closest friends and family. Fresh aspects of their character and personality broaden and correct my previous perceptions. They are more real to me. I can relate with them in a way that is more authentic and enlivening. I encourage you to think of one person in your life whom you experience as particularly tricky and enigmatic, then:

1. Imagine this person looking you in the eye and saying, “How do you see me?”

2. Formulate an honest response. Go ahead and generalize like crazy. Wrap this person up in a box and assume for a moment this is accurate. Give your brain permission to think you’ve got this person figured out. What you are doing is creating an accurate assessment of your existing perception of this person.

3. Now brainstorm some alternate perceptions. Over-generalized perceptions don’t have room for exceptions. So hunt for them. To do this you have to swivel around the person to gain unique vantage points. In what settings might this person do something that would broaden your existing perception? Picture this person at home, in a car, in a garden, with a pet, on a plane. How might seeing them in these various settings help fill out your perceptions?

4. In the next week note the exceptions to your previous perceptions. You will have to look hard and not be derailed by the experiences that reinforce your original over-generalized perception. Fighting this tendency is your task. This can only enhance how you relate to, and enjoy, this individual.

Look for and expect others to surprise you. Extend to others the invitation to teach you truths about their character and personality. Grant them the freedom to not only correct existing perceptions, but also add new dimensions to your understanding.

Tags: effective communication, empathic engagement, relational dynamics

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In February’s newsletter I championed a more holistic approach to the field of prevention that addresses the sources of risk behavior. In this second installment I advocate personalization over standardization of educational approaches.

Last week I spoke with the director of a youth organization I’ve been working with for several years. Her group is transitioning from a standardized education model to a more personalized one. The director described the initial training for the original program implementation. “We were basically trained to deliver a script,” she told me. Her observation succinctly captured a core tenet of the standardized approach. Hatched in the industrial revolution to promote a “consistent product” (I grieve to think that we would deign to refer to humans and their ideas as “product”), this relic prevails today. We have come to value standards and fidelity to such an extreme that we have marginalized the very elements that can promote behavior change. Standardized educational methods, while they may be earnest in their desire for bringing about positive change, consume precious resources and limit educational effectiveness and efficiency. To recoup these losses and to bring greater benefit to the youth we serve, I believe we must transition from standardized education to a more personalized model. Personalized education does not mean that we deliver a different program to every student. It means we retool our methods to provide every student with the requisite freedom, trust, and safety to make the education his or her own.

Consider the following: You deliver a “Stop Smoking” message to a group of teens and survey them afterward. You’re encouraged by the test results. In each of the key areas students demonstrate positive responses. Nearly all of the students, for example, agree smoking is not in their best interest. You then sit down with the class and pose one final question, “Can you tell me what this message of not smoking means to you?” Thirty students equals 30 unique meanings—and it is at the level of meaning that we must operate if we are to make a positive difference. It’s all too feasible that we could find consistency among student recall that would make the industrialist proud. The questions on the survey only help you measure how well you do in standardized terms. But accurate recall does not make for better decisions, for the simple reason that a student’s ability to recall data has little to do with whether the data has any meaning—and therefore any power. Behavior change is preceded by a process wherein meaningless content becomes meaningful. Personalized education encourages students to partake in this process.

One simple step you can take toward helping students make your message their own is to pose these questions that pertain to meaning during your presentation:

What do you think about this message? How do you relate to this message? How might this message affect your life? If this message seems irrelevant, please, by all means tell me in detail how this seems irrelevant.

Note the freedom and multiple points of entry these questions offer students.

Please don’t misunderstand me: Prevention education should have standards for content. Standards help provide consistency and program fidelity, components that are essential at a number of levels, not the least of which are assessment and evaluation. So while content is something we should define in clear terms, the process of learning–in order to be meaning-filled and potent–should encourage exploration and student process. The message has to progress from being ours to being owned by the students; from being pertinent from our perspective, to becoming a transformative element in how students see themselves and the world. Only when students personalize our message can we have any confidence that our work is effective. To ensure the most promising outcomes possible we must retool our training and implementation.

I was presenting on this topic a couple weeks ago in Florida when one participant noted what I believe is the primary reason we shy away from personalizing education, no matter how much good we think this will bring to students: “It feels really vulnerable,” she said. She got it. More than our fear of getting in trouble for not fulfilling standards, there is a deeper fear, multifaceted, that sabotages our efforts. I suspect, based on my own experience, it’s one of the most powerful fears–fear of the unknown. We wonder, “If I give students freedom, what might they say or do?” This is one reason we’re drawn to standardized education. In it we discover safety and control. It provides a Trojan horse within which we can house our fears. We do well to recognize this, enter classrooms anyway, and open the horse. An honest assessment of our fears is a bold first step that will help us be more effective.

Each of us hopes that our work in prevention education will help youth surmount substantial obstacles. We address this goal in prevention education best not by telling students about something, but instead helping them come to know our message in a personal way. Only then can the power and richness of this message help create the positive change we all seek.

Tags: educational reform, personalized education, prevention education

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