Tag: barn raising

On Whose Shoulders: Barn Raising

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Today’s shoulders provided more than key ideas for inclusion in Building School 2.0, they were also key for the how of building Building School 2.0.

The barn raising in question is that described by Don McCormick and Michael Kahn in their article “Barn Raising: Collaborative group process in seminars.”

McCormick and Kahn present a possibility for running class discussions and seminars that run contrary to Person A making a point, Person B poking holes, and Person C poking holes in those holes, and so on ad nauseam. Instead, McCormick and Kahn write:

We would like to suggest:

  1. The classroom battle is not a good way to teach thinking.

  2. Even if it were, it makes idea-conversation so unpleasant that students do their best to avoid it, in college and afterwards.

  3. It is a significant contribution to the building of a society of contention and enmity.

  4. And, as an alternative, there is another way to talk about ideas which obviates those difficulties.

That alternative, barn raising. Finding an idea and agreeing as a community to do whatever we can to build on that ideas as a community. In classrooms, in faculty meetings, in any room where ideas are discussed – barn raising can change the game by changing the unexamined rules.

As Chris and I were writing, barn raising occurred time and again as an idea we wanted to situate in the context of the larger messages of the book and as a guiding principle for marrying my ideas to his and his to mine. We would not have gotten anywhere if we’d positioned ourselves as partners whose objectives were to tear down whatever wall of the text the other had just completed.

Here’s the other thing about barn raising – once you know about it, you can’t not see its place in conversations. Every meeting I’m in where we’re supposed to be coming up with ideas or working together to build something, I can’t help imagine how things might have gone if we were all amenable to building something. Instead – and you’ll see it – so many meetings operate on a theory of pulling down whatever ideas propped up next to yours. Nothing of merit tends to get built that way.

82/365 We Can Do More than Admire the Problem

Building things is difficult. Building things with others – even more so. Nowhere is this more pronounced than in a conference presentation. Assembled in a poorly lit room with mean, uncomfortable chairs, professionals assemble, ostensibly to learn, grow, and take new ideas back to their home bases.

Ask those assembled to begin by turning to those around them and sharing their names, titles, and locations of origin, and you’re on the right track. You’ll get no argument when you ask for a few volunteers to share out what’s wrong, broken, or difficult about the systems in which they work.

In education, we like very much to do what my friend Kristin Hokanson once described as “admiring the problem.” If allowed to roam free, it’s likely an entire conference session could be dedicated to admiring the problem. If conference sessions don’t fit your context, imagine a faculty lounge at lunch break, faculty meeting, learning community meeting, etc. Any place professionals are meeting, it’s likely they can fill every cranny of a space with admiration of the problem.

Ask them to take a moment to consider a possible solution to that problem, though, and the mood will change. Perhaps more to the point, the mood will stay the same and the solution will be sentenced to death by “yeah, buts.”

No matter the research, evidence, data, and testimonials behind a solution, the “yeah, buts” will tumble out of mouths in an avalanche of negativity.

We are no longer simply admiring the problem, we’ve fallen in love with it.

In the schools we need, we must take a stance of “yes, and…”

“Yes, and…” is the fundamental principle of improvisational theater. Where no lines, no script, no direction are driving a scene actors must trust that their scene partners will accept what they say and do and immediately build off of it.

Imagine the power of such a mindset when someone presents an assembled audience with a teaching practice that has opened up learning for her students. Instead of, “Yeah, but that would never work for our kids because…” the answer becomes, “Yes, and here are the ways we’d need to tweak what you’re talking about for it to fit our scenario.”

Do not misunderstand, “Yes, and…” does not avoid conflict. Instead, it embraces conflict and builds from the difficulties rather than seeing the problem as the conclusion.

Another way to think about this is in the shape of the “barn raising” approach described by Don McCormick and Michael Kahn. Pointing out the stonewalling that can often take place in a college seminar discussion where all voices are attempting to be heard by means of either ignoring or tearing down those ideas that come before them, McCormick and Kahn suggest another approach.

They make four suggestions:

  1. The classroom battle is not a good way to teach thinking.
  2. Even if it were, it makes idea-conversation so unpleasant that students do their best to avoid it, in college and afterwards.
  3. It is a significant contribution to the building of a society of contention and enmity.
  4. And, as an alternative, there is another way to talk about ideas which obviates those difficulties.

McCormick and Kahn utilize the metaphor of a barn raising in which all parties are working to build something new and useful to the group. While each may have a different skill or task to complete, they are working toward a common cause of creation rather than destruction or limitation of the others. To be successful, all must be succcessful.

Both “Yes, and…” and barn raising take reality as their foundations. Both acknowledge the present situation or problem as the starting point for any work to be done. They find their usefulness in refusing to stand around and take into account all the factors that make finding a solution so difficult. “This is the reality,” these approaches say, “and now we will work together to build a new and better reality.”

34/365 My Four Rules for Conference Session Attendance

Before my second session at IETA, ran to the vendor hall to snag a pad of paper. I’d rushed in to my first session without laying down some ground rules, and figured writing them down would help me to remember to say them aloud this time. The photo below are the four rules I count as key to positive conversations where learning is involved.

four rules

1. Yes, and…
It’s a key to improv, and experience has shown it to be a key to getting anything done that might look like a solution. If you’ve ever spoken to a group of teachers (or any other group of adults in a system who’ve grown accustomed to how things are done), you know the tendancy of a momentum-killing phrase to pop up, “Yeah, but…” By asking folks to agree to a mindset of “Yes, and…” for at least 90 minutes, you’re able to stave off comments that sound a lot like, “Yeah, that’s a great idea, but here’s why it won’t work in my school…” Instead, “Yes, and…” asks participants to approach new ideas from the perspective of, “Yes, that’s a great idea, and here’s how I’d have to modify it to work in my school…” If I can get people to agree to this line of thinking for the 90 minutes, it’s possible we might get some actual work done.

2. Assume positive intent.
My friend Mike believes what he believes. At the same time, he’s willing to hear other people out and change his mind if the argument makes sense. “I always assume positive intent,” he told me at the beginning of the year. “Even if I disagree completely with what other people are saying, I assume they’re coming from a positive place.” It was the first time I’d heard the idea put in such a way. It was more adult and less Pollyanna than, “I look for the best in people.”
When working with a group, I ask them to assume positive intent. At IETA, for example, the room was full of school, district, and state administrators as well as classroom teachers. These are group that can be counted upon to gripe about each other behind closed doors and mumble those gripes when in the same session. By explicitly asking (and reminding) people to assume the things they heard and disagreed with were coming from a place of positive intent, I hoped to help folks look for common cause.

3. We are raising barns.
One of my professors started class last year by having us read this article on taking a “barn-raising” approach to class conversations. Acknowledging the fact that ideas in groups can quickly get floated and then sink when the next speaker makes clear he was really just waiting for his turn to talk rather than listening, this piece sets a different tone. It asks participants to listen to those who are speaking and comment from a place of supporting or building on what’s been said instead of moving to a tangent. The approach helps a group keep focus and allows for the following of ideas to deeper and deeper places. It’s a beautiful thing.

4. Twitter for Introverts
It’s a back channel with a purpose. Lately, I’ve been trying to make room for people who have questions or disagree with what I’m saying in a space. This comes from my increasing realization that, as an extrovert, I’m fine speaking up in a group. Others, as it turns out, aren’t as comfortable. If I start by inviting folks to tweet me as things move on with questions or comments they don’t necessarily feel comfortable saying aloud, I can invite a richer conversation. The key is remembering to check my phone for updates. This tactic allows me to tailor what’s going on to a larger portion of the room, keeps my ego in check and clears a path to follow-up conversations later.

There are other hopes and norms to be set when working with a group. These four, though, set a tone that I hope for in a classroom of students, but don’t have time to work on so gradually in a conference or breakout session. Plus, when it works, it’s a beautiful, iterative, and solutions-oriented conversation.