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Number Games

I start every weekday driving my 5-year-old son to school. He loves math, and on the way to kindergarten he’ll often ask if we can play a “number game” – little word problems with some silliness thrown in (if you had seven strawberry-frosted donuts and each of your sisters takes three when you aren’t looking . . . .). He loves it because it’s challenging, because it’s a puzzle, because it’s play, and because it’s something we get to do together. I hope he always feels that way.

I visited a calculus 2 class here at BUA yesterday, and I was so heartened to see the same spark in these kids. I observed this group of about a dozen 10th to 12th graders for twenty minutes, and the whole time they were working on a single problem in small groups. The teacher shared with me that the problem was both conceptually tricky and algebraically diabolical. Kids were huddled together trying to untangle the knots the problem offered. The room was boisterous – comic groans when they hit roadblocks, celebrations when they worked something through. Now and then, a student from one group would get up and walk over to another to compare notes. The teacher was walking around giving pointers – not answers. At one point he said, “I have heard four answers so far, and no two are the same!” The kids laughed and kept at it. I talked to one of those students in the hallway today and asked if they figured it out. She beamed when she told me that they did.

It breaks my heart that as kids get older, so many of them lose that playfulness and joy in math, which is too often replaced by either grudging acceptance or even a fixed-mindset phobia: “I’m just not good at math.” We owe them better. Our teachers work hard to create environments where we can play with math – providing real challenge alongside loving support. I’m so glad this is a place where kids still get to play “number games.”

World-Class Speakers on our Block

At this week’s all-school meeting, our community heard from Dr. Joshua Goodman, a professor at BU’s Wheelock College of Education & Human Development. Dr. Goodman studies economics and education policy, working with large data sets to analyze education-related questions. He shared his recent research – which you may have read about in the news – on trends in public school enrollment in the aftermath of the pandemic. The talk was fascinating; he walked us all through his data analysis, the conclusions, and the limitations of the study.

My favorite part was the question-and-answer period. For 15 minutes, our students asked sophisticated, thoughtful questions about the findings, bringing to bear both their personal experiences as young people educated during the pandemic and their critical thinking skills. It could have gone on much longer. Over the next several days, I received wonderful feedback about Dr. Goodman’s talk from faculty and students alike. One student shared how nice it was that he pitched it at a college or graduate-school level, not talking down to this crowd. Another described how interesting it was to explore a quantitative analysis of something that feels so relevant and connected to his personal experience. A third felt inspired to explore adjacent topics for her senior thesis. Dr. Goodman will be returning to BUA later this month for an opt-in lunch with students interested in talking more. I imagine there will be a crowd!

The talk, and the community’s reception, reminded me of how fortunate we are to have the special connection to BU. Beyond the hundreds of BU classes our students take each year and the dozens of professors who advise student senior theses, we are able to bring in remarkable speakers like Dr. Goodman; later in the year, we’ll hear from two leading BU professors on applications of AI in their respective fields. Our tenth-grade seminars feature opportunities for students to work with BU’s school of business, maker space, innovation center, and software engineering group. Students seek out opportunities in BU labs, leverage the archives for research, use the fitness and recreation center, and more. I’m glad to be able to open those doors for these kind and curious young people and grateful for the partnership with the University.

A Culture of Civil Discourse

Fostering productive, respectful civil discourse has always been a strength of this school and one of our most sacred obligations. Our mission promises that students will be challenged to “think critically” and “engage meaningfully in our community and beyond.” Schools have to be places where students can learn how to speak up with conviction, disagree with respect, listen with an open heart, and foreground our common humanity. Where else can they? In a polarized, influencer-focused, social-media-dominated age, spaces for that kind of exchange are disappearing, and the social risks of engagement can feel stifling.

Last fall, I opened the term with a talk exploring this idea, recognizing the challenges, and offering some hope that BUA can be an oasis. The tradition here of open, healthy, and informed back-and-forth in our classroom gives me confidence. We also continue to put in place intentional programming to foster productive dialogue in spaces outside the safety of the curriculum. Conversations@BUA, a teacher-curated space for students, faculty, and staff to meet together to discuss controversial topics every several weeks, will begin again next week with a Friday-afternoon discussion about free speech under the cloud of political violence. This year, several students have formed a current events club to provide even more structured opportunities for learning together and pushing one another’s thinking. The faculty and staff are learning too. Several of us did some training with the Close Up Foundation earlier this year, and we have planned a few internal professional development sessions to sharpen our skills around charged conversations in class. BUA is also in the early stages of organizing a civil discourse conference for students and faculty across Boston-area independent schools for later this year.

In the interest of making sure our school’s voice does not chill individual voices in the community, we clarified the school’s position about institutional statements in response to national and world events. The statement speaks for itself and has, so far, served us well.

I welcome your thoughts, suggestions, and disagreement.

Being Yourself in Public Speaking

I teach a public speaking seminar to all of our 9th graders. The classes are relatively small, since we’ve divided up the group into trimester cohorts. It’s a fun way for me to get to know our new students and for them to get some practice with an important set of skills.

But something else is happening too. The first assignment is for each student to prepare and deliver a 3-minute personal narrative – an experience that they learned something from or that helped shape them in some way. Ninth graders in this fall cohort are understandably just getting to know one another, figuring out who their friends are, and finding their place at the school. Given that, it’s been striking that so many of the students have shared stories that are deeply personal and have allowed themselves to be vulnerable: the experience of feeling isolated and invisible; overcoming a long-standing fear; being forgiven for a transgression; dealing with family relocation and separation from friends. I’m proud of these students who shared so openly up at the podium. I’m grateful for the warm and supportive reception from their peers in the audience. And I’m thrilled about what this says about the culture and community these kids are fostering with one another.

Holding Doors in a Hurry

Yesterday morning, I stood outside the school’s entrance – like I do most days – greeting students as they arrived. At 8:29, I saw a student standing alone across the street dutifully waiting for the walk signal at the crosswalk. When the signal changed, she rushed across the street, presumably eager to get to her 8:30 class. We walked into the building together, and, despite her rush, she took the time to hold the door for me as we entered the lobby. She then raced to the staircase and stopped on the first step, noticing another student approaching the side door. She pivoted and opened the door for that student before continuing on her way.

Holding a door is a kindness. When repeated, it becomes habit. Habits in turn build character. We celebrate moments like these because we embrace our duty to help students build character in this critical developmental period. Becoming a person for others is both a benefit to society and a source of life-long fulfillment for that individual.

Yesterday’s example, though, doesn’t feel like the student was just building character; to me, it revealed this student’s character. It is easy to be generous with your time in a relaxed setting. Holding a door when you are already late says something about who you are. I’m so grateful to be in a school with young people like this one who stand as models for all of us.

Smart is Cool

Every August, I meet with the family of each new student by Zoom. I ask about the parents’ stories, their child’s path, and their hopes and concerns about their child’s BUA experience. One parent shared something I hear from quite a few new families: they really wanted for their child to be in a place where engaging in class conversation, asking questions, and being interested in learning is the norm – a place where being smart is cool. The parent worried that in the past few years of their child’s education in middle school, the culture had shifted; there was less room for those questions and a growing sense of social risk from jumping in too eagerly into class discussion. There were even early signs of their child beginning to disengage.

I’ve been walking the halls as classes get into swing, and I happened to walk by this student’s English class. I lingered in the doorway for a few minutes. I wish the parent could have seen what I saw. Their child was on the edge of their seat, novel open and annotated. In the few minutes I was there, the student spoke several times in an easy back and forth with several other students. At one point, I caught a big smile. As I walked away, I was smiling too.

“Hey, do you want to join us?”

I’m writing from Camp Burgess, our annual outdoor orientation trip for 9th and 10th graders. Days are filled with kayaking and swimming in the lake, high-ropes courses, zip lines, farm tours, group puzzle challenges, and rock-wall climbs. The evenings have featured night hikes, board games, a talent show by the campfire, and a sing-a-long. All throughout, there has been plenty of down time for kids to be together and make friends – what this trip is all about.

Yesterday, between activities, I walked past a few new 9th graders sitting together playing cards. One of them noticed a classmate standing on their own in the periphery. In a casual, comfortable way, one of the kids at the table turned to that classmate and said, “Hey, do you want to join us?” “Sure,” the other said, sat down, and integrated right in.

It was simple, subtle, and beautiful – exactly what we expect in a community that prides itself on kindness. Kindness requires more than good intentions and more than manners. A culture of kindness is created and perpetuated by individuals who make the effort to help others feel like they belong. It is a rare thing to be in a community where kindness is the norm. From what I have seen these past few days, it is going to be a very good year.

View more photos from our week at Camp Burgess here.