Lurking Guardians of the Past

I'm deep into my "detailed reread" of Clayton Christensen's Disrupting Class, How Disruptive Innovation Will Change the Way the World Learns. My first encounter with a promising new non-fiction book is always a cursory review. I'm essentially speed reading to hear the author's foremost message. If I'm drawn to the point, I set aside precious quality time for a delicious and "detailed reread." That's what I did with Disrupting Class. I added it to my stack of "rereads." My self-appointed rule is to place a new "reread" on the bottom of the stack--but I rarely follow my own rule. I've noticed that compelling "rereads" find their way to the top to the stack by haunting my curiosity and peaking my sense of adventure. These books lure me back to them with an attraction that surely resembles the forces that drive treasure hunters. Because I know treasure exists within them, I'm compelled to mine the gold in "them there hills." I'm beginning to better understand and appreciate the "reread" stack. It is a second filter of sorts. It separates potential treasure troves from fool's gold. And true to its function, the "reread stack" catapulted Disrupting Class toward me at every given opportunity for quality time. I am into this book. I'm reading for treasures and finding them.

Here is a treasure drawn from page 112. Its accuracy disturbs me.

"Maurice Maeterlinck, the Belgian Nobel Laureate in literature once observed, "At every crossway on the road that leads to the future each progressive spirit is opposed by a thousand men appointed to guard the past."

I'm disturbed because I suspect that the "thousand men" may be living in my neighborhood, in my community... and they may be congregating in my schools! Why, just last week I caught a glimpse of lurking guardians of the past. I'd just chaired an exhilarating meeting with forwarding-thinking administrators that genuinely aspire to transforming schools for the 21st century. Following the meeting and filled with hope and renewed energy, I plunged into my work. One of "the thousand" slowly emerged in my thinking - out of nowhere! Just as clearly as a ringing bell, I replayed a meeting scene in which a potential "guardian"interjected, "What we are doing is changing the teacher's job description." Now, I don't doubt for a minute that the speaker intended to call attention to the fact that our expectations for how teachers teach are changing ... and for the better. But somewhere deep in the origin of the comment was a guardian of the past. The "guardian" challenged whether or not our schools had the right to adjust expectations for how teachers teach in the 21st century. After all, the existing job description did not spell out a responsibility for teaching "21st century skills." Maeterlinck's quote kicked in. It was a jolt - an epiphany. In an instant I had an intuitive grasp of the reality that surfaced through this event. It is simple and so striking. There is a "guardian of the past" lurking in the the most progressive of us. As we step into the future, the guardian of all things past is that voice that whispers, "Can we really do this?" "Is it really possible to glimpse the future and plan for progressive tomorrows? "Who am I to lead a charge for change?" Oh, that Maeterlinck's "thousands" were that small in number! Given a thousand to defeat, we'd have 21st century schools with informed teaching and progressive learning on every corner. The reality, however, is that "guardians of the past" exist within the most courageous of us. We must all battle to conquer the voices that "guard the past." It won't be easy. It will be hard. Chances are great that "the old demon" will surface every day.

Flanking the Centurions

I can't remember my first lessons about the Roman centurions. I don't recall the grade or the teacher. I have no idea why I carry a clear imprint of these ancient soldier-leaders...one that closely resembles this award-winning image from Wikimedia Commons. Admittedly, I am not a history scholar. In fact, my current understandings about centurions are quite likely shaped by my schooling, old movies and my husband, the history buff. As I began thinking about a name for my blog voice, however, a synapse of stilled dendrites and axons rattled my dormant "centurion schema." After a bit of cursory fact-checking, my uncontested choice for a blogspot title was "The 21st Century Centurion." You see, on some level, I know we need a militia of highly skilled educators to lead the learning in the 21st century. I am compelled by the urgent need to energize, empower and mobilize a vast corps of courageous, innovative educators who will redefine teaching and learning for the 21st Century. Having worked in technology professional development for years, I'm able to recognize that the "season" for transformation is upon us now--in the present--today. All things past have come together - to NOW. A symphony of knowledge, tools, resources, conditions, policies, societal needs, educational crises, and the pulse of the human condition is at full crescendo. After 25 years of change vibrations, beginning with a Nation at Risk in 1983, the call for a learning revolution resonates at ear-splitting intensity. The shrill cry for change will certainly shatter the fragile remains of traditional, monolithic schools. Our students hang in the balance trusting society to rally and rebuild them. The good news is an army of 21st century "education centurions" is forming.

Having said all of that, I confess that this centurion paused before charging into the edublogosphere. It is truthful to say that she looked over the blog horizon, saw the army of naysayers, and considered a quick retreat. It is intimidating to make one's self vulnerable to arrows of criticism from the bows of colleagues. Yet, over the years, I have learned to take blows from traditionalists without negative emotion. Uncharacteristically, however, I have silently followed and learned and grown from the courageous lead of edubloggers who overcame fears and wounds to lead the net-charge for school reform. I've long been inspired by the web queen, Kathy Schrock and the flat world princess Vicki Davis. I've been energized by the passion of Sheryl Nussbaum-Beach, the sheer volume of Wes Fryer's outstanding contributions, the humor and wisdom of Christa Allen, the selfless and brilliant insights of Terry Freedman, the faithfulness of Lisa Durff, the erudite rants of Gary Stager and the tireless and amazing efforts of gifted leaders including Dean Shareski, Lucy Gray, Lisa Thurrman, Scott Floyd and Bud Hunt. There are so many others. I owe so much to so many.

How can one sit on the sideline once the mission is clear? How can one "be still" when walls are crumbling and students must be served? How does an educator say "no" when colleagues are assembling to reform our profession? Here's the answer to all three questions. We will not be still. The educators will rally. They'll enlist. They'll disrupt, conquer and rebuild our schools for the 21st century. I am certain of this. Toward this end, I join the ranks of web centurions that marched before me and paved my way in the blogosphere. Thank you for your leadership.