The Thinking of "Trailblazers"

 

Adam Grant has written a book called Originals: How Non-Conformists Move the World in which he argues that we have long valued the rule-following, memorizing students. He notes that the students in the US often regarded as “prodigies”—the ones who “learn to read at age two, play Bach at four, breeze through calculus at six”—rarely go on to change the world. When scholars study the most influential people in history, they are rarely those regarded as “gifted” or “geniuses” in their childhood. Instead, the people who excel in school often “apply their extraordinary abilities in ordinary ways, mastering their jobs without questioning defaults, and without making waves.” Grant concludes: “Although we rely on them to keep the world running smoothly, they keep us running on a treadmill.” Those who do go on to change the world are creative and flexible thinkers, people who think outside rather than inside the box.

Many people know that creative and flexible thinking is valuable, but they do not associate it with mathematics. Instead, they see math time as an area in which to follow rules and be compliant. But when we combine mathematics with creativity, openness, and out-of-the-box thinking, it is wonderfully liberating. This is something everybody deserves to know about and experience, and when they do, they do not look back.

The advantages of deep and flexible thinking apply to all subjects and avenues of life. We do not know what problems people will need to solve in the future, but they are likely to be problems we have never even dreamed of. Filling our minds with content that we can reproduce at speed is unlikely to help us solve the problems of the future; instead, training our minds to think deeply, creatively, and flexibly seems far more useful. The thinking of “trailblazers” whose brains were studied was found to be more flexible than that of regular people. They had learned to approach problems in different ways and not just rely on a memory. Speed and fixed approaches will only take us so far. In the education world and beyond, we must all challenge the assumptions about the benefits of speed and memorization and instead focus on flexible and creative learning. This will help us unlock our own and others’ potential as learners.

The Case for the Rebel

Disruptive students may not be the easiest to have in class, but perhaps defiance should be encouraged.

It tends to be common knowledge that Albert Einstein was bad at school, but less known is that he was also bad in school. Einstein not only received failing grades—a problem for which he was often summoned to the headmaster’s office—but he also had a bad attitude. He sat in the back of the class smirking at the teacher; he was disrespectful and disruptive; he questioned everything; and, when he was faced with the ultimatum to straighten up or drop out, he dropped out. That’s right: Albert Einstein was a dropout. And yet, he grew up to become one of the greatest thinkers in human history.

One can write off Einstein’s accomplishments as an exception to the rule; they can reason that his behavior was actually a symptom of being so smart that school didn’t challenge him, which is probably somewhat true. But what if what made Einstein a change agent was his rebellious nature rather than his intelligence? After all, the world is full of brilliant people who accomplish very little compared to Einstein.

I have a student like this in my class right now. He is a brilliant creative writer. I give him highly intellectual books, articles, and authors to read on his own because he often asks me highly intellectual questions that I can’t quite answer, but for which I know he will find answers in those texts. He typically brings the book back to me in a few days, having read it cover to cover and dog-eared most of its pages.

He is failing two classes but stays up all night long to write short stories and comes to school overtired and irritable. He rolls his eyes at anything he deems as busy work, comes into class and intentionally sits with his back to me, and continues to chat with friends long after I have started the lesson. He barely completes most assignments, if at all, and I have to constantly nag him to focus and stop distracting other students.

He is, in short, a huge pain. But when his parent came in to have a conference with me last fall, I found myself looking a worried adult in the eye and telling him what I believe to be the truth: His son is going to be okay. In fact, I told him that his son will someday stand out from the others; he will find a career he loves because he is passionate, intense, brilliant, and fiercely independent. Even though this student is a pain to teach, he is someone I will likely respect when he matures into an adult.

Throughout my years as an educator, the colleagues I admire the most tend to fit the same description. My favorite colleagues ask tough questions of school leadership, are impatient with the status quo, and often intentionally break rules if it means a better education for the students in their classrooms. What tends to be expected of students in schools is the opposite of what many people admire in adults. And yet, students who raise their hands, sit quietly, do their work without question, and generally have figured out how to “do school” are the ones who tend to benefit most from the system and the ones who seem to have the strongest “work ethic” in the classroom. In a study of teacher expectations and perceptions on student behavior, most teachers noted that self-control and cooperation were the most important indicators of school success.

I can attest that students who are self-disciplined, quiet when asked to be quiet, and generally do what they are told in a cooperative manner tend to be easier to teach. Like many teachers, I have validated these behaviors through extrinsic rewards and praise. But I have also found that sometimes the students who are uncooperative, undisciplined, and even rude tend to be strong leaders. In fact, in a recent study, children who were found to be defiant rule-breakers tended to grow up to be academic over-achievers and high-earning adults. Other students seem to gravitate toward these types of students. This is why people often speak admirably of the “class clown”—there is something intriguing about a rebel, even if the rebel’s behavior is destructive.

I recently heard on the radio a state legislator speaking of the importance of developing “soft skills” for the workforce. He elaborated on the merits of understanding the importance of a firm handshake, showing up 10 minutes early, and being a “team player.” As I listened to him, I thought these were admirable traits—traits that my own father tried desperately to instill in me, which I generally ignored—but they were mostly values held by an older generation. And he isn’t incorrect; research shows that “conscientious” and “agreeable” people are often more successful in the workplace. But maybe the problem is with the various definitions of success, rather than with individuals who do not fit the profile of an agreeable worker. After dropping out of school, many would have believed Einstein to be unsuccessful, but I doubt many people would say that now.

If the definition of success can change according to perception, so too can the definition of work ethic. Millennials tend to have a vastly different definition of work ethic than traditional business employers do. For example, 9 percent of college students define preparedness as “work ethic,” compared to 23 percent of business leaders and 18 percent of recruiters. And while the definitions of work ethic and success are already evolving given the Silicon Valley mentality that rebellious youth can be valuable disrupters, the general, traditional perception is that the employers have it right, while the millennials need to be whipped into shape considering they are “often the last hired and first fired.” But maybe it’s employers who need to adapt to a new generation of thinkers and not the other way around.

In his book Originals, Adam Grant gives example after example of original thinkers like Einstein who changed the world by rebelling against the status quo. He notes that procrastination, consistent tardiness, and a tendency to upset authority figures are actually important characteristics for original thinkers. I’m sure the state legislator on the radio would have been infuriated by a young Einstein with a bad attitude. But the rebels in the world are often the ones who change it the most.

A few years ago, I taught a student who, like the aforementioned one I currently teach, was awful in class. He was rude, disrespectful, disengaged, and spent every ounce of his energy trying to entertain his peers regardless of the frustration it caused me as the teacher. He didn’t care about getting into trouble—detentions, suspensions, and daily visits to the principal’s office were utterly ineffective in managing his behavior. I would love to say that through hard work, persistence, and a few heart-to-heart talks, he was suddenly a great student who made straight As, but that isn’t what happened. He was a difficult student from the start to the end of the school year, and for the rest of his high-school career, as my colleagues often shared.

But this former student recently found me on social media and wrote to explain that he had matured after high school, enrolled in college, and started acting in the plays produced by his college’s drama department. He got his degree and now manages a drama camp for teens. This didn’t surprise me: As the drama director back then, I saw a difference in him on stage versus sitting at a desk. He even had some pretty good days in class if we did skits or readers’ theater. He wasn’t a bad kid; he was a performer. Yet I worried about his future—in fact, I wished desperately for him to switch schools—because he just couldn’t seem to “get it together” and often made my job much more difficult.

Now I see that he wasn’t the problem at all—rather, it was the traditional expectations of school behavior and subsequent definition of success. The influence that traditional thinking had on me as an educator affected how I viewed him.

Granted, teaching is difficult enough without expecting individual teachers to encourage defiant and difficult behavior in the hopes that it will lead to children who grow into original thinkers as adults, but there are ways for teachers to encourage and set boundaries for such behavior. Teachers can create strengths-focused classrooms that help students like the class clowns and the rebels see the value in their gifts and reframe them positively, rather than seeking negative attention. As with my former student, this isn’t always possible on a day-to-day basis, but because I found ways to integrate dramatic arts into my lessons and offer him opportunities to perform inside and outside the classroom, I do think I was able to guide him to a positive outlet for his natural talents and instincts.

And there is no denying that rebels can be dangerous, both inside and outside the classroom. There is inherently a destructive nature to rebellion. A disruptive student can utterly destroy a positive learning environment for him or herself, the other students, and the teacher. And embracing dangerous rebels can also have negative impacts elsewhere. Yet, his continued brand as a rebel outsider bringing in his friends does gain support from many. It occurs to me that by providing opportunities for young rebels to find positive outlets for rebellion as my current student has with writing and my former one did with drama, they could become assets to society’s institutions, rather than a liability.

Even though the class clown, the snarky kid in the back, and the D-student may create problems for teachers and the school, they often have skills that can’t always be taught. They tend to be courageous, outspoken, persistent, and creative people—kids who may not make great students or become the kind of employees with a “really strong handshake,” but who instead become the kind of people who lead and forge new paths for others. As a teacher and a parent, I want to help create those kind of people. I want to help mold people who don’t just learn to show up on time, but bring something positive and original to the table when they get there.

Ashley Lamb-Sinclair
The Atlantic

How to Raise a Creative Child. Step One: Back Off

THEY learn to read at age 2, play Bach at 4, breeze through calculus at 6, and speak foreign languages fluently by 8. Their classmates shudder with envy; their parents rejoice at winning the lottery. But to paraphrase T. S. Eliot, their careers tend to end not with a bang, but with a whimper.

Consider the nation’s most prestigious award for scientifically gifted high school students, the Westinghouse Science Talent Search, called the Super Bowl of science by one American president. From its inception in 1942 until 1994, the search recognized more than 2000 precocious teenagers as finalists. But just 1 percent ended up making the National Academy of Sciences, and just eight have won Nobel Prizes. For every Lisa Randall who revolutionizes theoretical physics, there are many dozens who fall far short of their potential.

Child prodigies rarely become adult geniuses who change the world. We assume that they must lack the social and emotional skills to function in society. When you look at the evidence, though, this explanation doesn’t suffice: Less than a quarter of gifted children suffer from social and emotional problems. A vast majority are well adjusted — as winning at a cocktail party as in the spelling bee.

What holds them back is that they don’t learn to be original. They strive to earn the approval of their parents and the admiration of their teachers. But as they perform in Carnegie Hall and become chess champions, something unexpected happens: Practice makes perfect, but it doesn’t make new.

The gifted learn to play magnificent Mozart melodies, but rarely compose their own original scores. They focus their energy on consuming existing scientific knowledge, not producing new insights. They conform to codified rules, rather than inventing their own. Research suggests that the most creative children are the least likely to become the teacher’s pet, and in response, many learn to keep their original ideas to themselves. In the language of the critic William Deresiewicz, they become the excellent sheep.

In adulthood, many prodigies become experts in their fields and leaders in their organizations. Yet “only a fraction of gifted children eventually become revolutionary adult creators,” laments the psychologist Ellen Winner. “Those who do must make a painful transition” to an adult who “ultimately remakes a domain.”

Most prodigies never make that leap. They apply their extraordinary abilities by shining in their jobs without making waves. They become doctors who heal their patients without fighting to fix the broken medical system or lawyers who defend clients on unfair charges but do not try to transform the laws themselves.

So what does it take to raise a creative child? One study compared the families of children who were rated among the most creative 5 percent in their school system with those who were not unusually creative. The parents of ordinary children had an average of six rules, like specific schedules for homework and bedtime. Parents of highly creative children had an average of fewer than one rule.

Creativity may be hard to nurture, but it’s easy to thwart. By limiting rules, parents encouraged their children to think for themselves. They tended to “place emphasis on moral values, rather than on specific rules,” the Harvard psychologist Teresa Amabile reports.

Even then, though, parents didn’t shove their values down their children’s throats. When psychologists compared America’s most creative architects with a group of highly skilled but unoriginal peers, there was something unique about the parents of the creative architects: “Emphasis was placed on the development of one’s own ethical code.”

Yes, parents encouraged their children to pursue excellence and success — but they also encouraged them to find “joy in work.” Their children had freedom to sort out their own values and discover their own interests. And that set them up to flourish as creative adults.

When the psychologist Benjamin Bloom led a study of the early roots of world-class musicians, artists, athletes and scientists, he learned that their parents didn’t dream of raising superstar kids. They weren’t drill sergeants or slave drivers. They responded to the intrinsic motivation of their children. When their children showed interest and enthusiasm in a skill, the parents supported them.

Top concert pianists didn’t have elite teachers from the time they could walk; their first lessons came from instructors who happened to live nearby and made learning fun. Mozart showed interest in music before taking lessons, not the other way around. Mary Lou Williams learned to play the piano on her own; Itzhak Perlman began teaching himself the violin after being rejected from music school.

Even the best athletes didn’t start out any better than their peers. When Dr. Bloom’s team interviewed tennis players who were ranked in the top 10 in the world, they were not, to paraphrase Jerry Seinfeld, doing push-ups since they were a fetus. Few of them faced intense pressure to perfect the game as Andre Agassi did. A majority of the tennis stars remembered one thing about their first coaches: They made tennis enjoyable.

SINCE Malcolm Gladwell popularized the “10,000-hour rule” suggesting that success depends on the time we spend in deliberate practice, debate has raged about how the hours necessary to become an expert vary by field and person. In arguing about that, we’ve overlooked two questions that matter just as much.

First, can’t practice itself blind us to ways to improve our area of study? Research reveals that the more we practice, the more we become entrenched — trapped in familiar ways of thinking. Expert bridge players struggled more than novices to adapt when the rules were changed; expert accountants were worse than novices at applying a new tax law.

Adam Grant 

https://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/31/opinion/sunday/how-to-raise-a-creative-child-step-one-back-off.html