Lost amidst journal articles, textbooks, and ideas, I decided to go back to the personal statement I wrote to get started on this graduate school journey, hoping it would help me find direction.
Pursuing research in education is my opportunity to circle these big questions, square my experiences, and dig deeper.
My vision for education was that we need to cultivate hopeful individuals, who think deeply and creatively, who develop their strengths and pursue their passions, who feel safe to take risks, who work effectively across cultures, and see opportunity in change. It is these aspirations that give direction to our actions.
What professional, social, and administrative support structures do teachers need to be innovative in their practice? How can a system-wide framework be designed to inspire personal investment? How do great leaders envision, design, and introduce large-scale initiatives when there is resistance? Is cultivating passionate and engaged teachers enough to shift an institution, school district, or nation towards change?
How do practitioners identify the problems that they need to solve? What tools do they use to solve them? What do they do with their solutions and how does that scale to the rest of the district? How do you study a multi-level, systemic process? How can schools change to meet the needs of their students, constituents, and society? How does this scale?
My commitment and passion for education is fundamental to who I am, and it is precisely this love that drives me to improve it. The world can be a better place if we are intentional in our actions, aware of our environment, and seek joy in learning and play. Living this at all levels – students, teachers, and administrators – will cultivate agency. After all, life is about possibility. If we see education as a set of rules that do not work or even include us, why bother? But if we live learning as a way to discover and transform, the possibilities are endless.
Over the last few days, I read a textbook. And if I’m honest, I loved it. Graduate school continues to feel like a privilege and a luxury, to learn about ideas that I find interesting, do engaging and meaningful work with teachers and other researchers, and try my best to write in a way that captures my thinking.
I remember a high school English teacher telling me that the easiest (and therefore worst) way to write a summary is to do so chronologically: “And then, and then, and then.” It’s the easiest to write, because it’s also the easiest way to understand. This is what I needed to wrap my head around organization theory, which I want to use for the conceptual framework for my dissertation.
This book, Organization Theory, by Mary Jo Hatch, gave me an entry point into the scope of study, both chronologically (from classical, modern, symbolic/interpretive, to post-modern) and topically (core concepts, decision making, power, politics, change, and learning). Not only did this give me an entry point into this field, but it also allowed me to see where my interests are. What does thinking about schools through the lens allow me to see, understand, and say? And of course, how do I limit my view by seeing it through these theories?
A little over a year ago, I wrote about managing the second 500m of a crew race. Catch – send. Catch – send. There were moments that weren’t pretty, and work that I’m glad is done, but I made it through. I’m into the third 500m now, and it’s time for a power 10: 10 strokes as hard as I can pull.
It’s spring break. Campus is quiet, undergrads are off to Florida or Mexico, other grad students are working from home, and I’m in the office, frantically writing a first draft of my dissertation proposal. In two weeks, I need to have an executive summary for the Clark Seminar, which I’m honored to have been selected to. Next week, I’m off to another Carnegie Summit to present a poster about our PiPNIC work. So this week is it.
The third 500m is when you started to feel the send. You feel the glide of the boat under you, the water beside the boat smooths out, and there is a crisp snap against the oarlocks. The power 10 feels good: a sense of power, possibility, and strength.
I’m starting to see connections between what I thought was an interesting idea and the good work happening in schools. I use words like epistemology and distributed cognition and (at least I think) I know what they mean. I have definitely developed an appreciation for the time it takes to develop from an idea to a study.
Focus on the rhythm, keep the course, send each pull.