When my mother died six years ago, she left behind a bumper sticker that said, “Subvert the Dominant Paradigm.” She strongly believed that people should question why thing are done the way they are, and always seek improvement.
Today, the dominant paradigm in education is to believe that children should be consistent: they should perform equally well across a number of academic areas, and they should be equally capable academically, socially, physically, and behaviorally. The paradigm expects, values and supports even development across all areas and a child, to be successful, must perform at the same level as or slightly better than his or her peers in all of them. There is a fixed educational “mold” into which kids are supposed to fit - specified skills at specific ages - and it is the same mold for all children. Curricula are designed, teachers trained, and schools constructed to serve this paradigm. And entrance exams weed out those who don’t fit the mold.
There are many problems with this paradigm. The first, of course, is that it is just not realistic: Development is very rarely even across all areas, and early talkers are not necessarily early walkers. Children who are advanced in reading do not necessarily develop great fine motor control for handwriting or advanced social behaviors. They’re just good readers. Kids who lag behind in one subject area or social skill may have great ability or highly developed skills in other areas.
But a more striking problem with this mold is that it does not predict adult success. Many of today’s men and women of achievement, and most of the great movers, shakers, innovators, inventors, writers and scientists of history did not fit this mold… or, at least, they did not succeed because they fit this mold.
Does anyone know what grades Oprah got in school? Any bets on whether comedian Robin Williams had problems sitting still in class? French scientist Louis Pasteur did poorly in chemistry when he attended the Royal College. Albert Einstein had problems with attention, some social oddities, and may even have had Asperger’s Syndrome. He was four years old before he could speak, and seven before he could read. Rocket scientist Werner von Braun flunked 9th grade algebra. American inventor Thomas Edison had serious problems organizing and completing tasks. When he was in school, his teachers called him “addled” and told him that he was too stupid to learn anything. He did not fit the mold. The list goes on and on and includes people like John Kennedy, Winston Churchill, Mozart, Diane Fossey and Isaac Newton.
We value adults for their strengths and contributions. Can you tell me anything about Shakespeare’s math skills? How was Einstein at rugby? How did Bill Gates do in History class? We don’t know because we don’t care. Shakespeare was a writer. Einstein was a scientist. Bill Gates worked with computers, mostly outside of the school environment. They did not succeed because they fit a mold of even development or equal development for all. They succeeded (and we benefited from their achievements) because they had areas of great strength.
Imagine our world if all of these people had been rejected from school, or failed inside the system, because of weaknesses they might have had. Imagine if we had required them all to fit our pre-designed mold. Imagine if we had entrance exams, when they were five or four or even two years old, that required consistent physical, social, behavioral and academic development.
This is the worst part of this paradigm and the traditional educational mold: As educators, and as a society, we often reject, under-educate, or shame and demoralize children who do not fit the mold. These children come to schools filled with hope, curiosity, and their personal dreams only to be made to feel that they are just not good enough. Make no mistake: In doing this, we not only disappoint the children. We deprive ourselves of the great potential that they bring to our own futures.
At The Harbour School, we operate with a different paradigm. Our Program of Inquiry is fairly challenging and the subject matter is advanced, so we ask that all our children have average or above average (and sometimes very superior) reasoning ability. But beyond that, we have an open door policy, and children are accepted as they come to us, with all their strengths, weaknesses, passions, interests and areas of difficulty.
We then address each child as an individual, adjusting our education to fit the child rather than asking the child to conform to a mold. For example, if we have a child with dyslexia, we offer that child a structured and intensive reading program while at the same time valuing – and teaching that child to value – his or her contributions in math, history, leadership, science or drama. If a child comes with attentional problems, we put that child in a small class, with lots of opportunity for one-on-one instruction or small group interaction, where children with ADHD shine. If a child comes with social deficits, we teach social skills. If a child arrives who has suffered a trauma, is very shy, or has separation anxiety, we offer a safe and nurturing environment where we can help that child to feel secure. If a child has difficulty with handwriting, we teach that child to type.
We don’t call this type of program “special education.” We call this “education,” and we figure it’s our job. We don’t expect, or even value, consistency across all areas, and we certainly don’t expect all children to be equal in all respects. We value, and we try to teach the children to value, the differences within and between all of us.
So we often get the four year olds who can’t cut with scissors or hop on one foot. We get a lot of eight year olds who can’t sit still in a large classroom. We are excited about the child who can’t read but is great at debate and a class leader. We love the young scientist who is stubborn, and the young mathematician who is socially inept. We are honored to get to know the young writer who is terrible at math. It is our privilege to get to teach these young people, and our mission to prepare them for their future success.
I don’t know if this is a new paradigm, or just a very old paradigm, but I do know that it is not the dominant paradigm. I think my mother would approve.
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