Why Not Ride to School

 A recent Bicycling article (strongly) suggested that students who exercise in the morning are better prepared to learn in the classroom, particularly students with ADHD.

This research fits what we, as teachers, intuitively know about children and learning.  Active and fit children who have had an opportunity to play vigorously or - as they grow older – train - are calmer, more focused, and have an easier time learning in the classroom.

Some schools have taken this information and acted on it.  The Sterling Hall School in Toronto, long a leader in boys’ education, has implemented quality daily physical education for its youngest boys for years.  Further, Sterling Hall has never sacrificed recess time for the sake of more academic time.  Their boys are also welcome to use ‘standing desks’ and a number of rooms have been outfitted with fitness balls as an option beyond the standard chair.

Most schools, however, choose to ignore the reality that our students are, increasingly, not getting enough exercise.  This is not totally because school administrators aren’t paying or don’t care – rather, it is trying to fit these findings into an existing model of school.  The classic questions come up: “Who would teach that?”, “Where would we do it?”, “Whose timetable does it fit in to?” “What about our morning reading period?”

I put to you today that these questions, which are a matter of staffing, should be secondary.  The statement should be “we’re going to implement this for the benefit of our students.”  Why?  Because we know it’s the right thing to do.  As a wise man once said: “When the why becomes clear, so too does the how.”

A Lesson from Flight School

When I fly dual-control Cessnas with fellow pilots we have a distinct procedure to let each other know who is in control of the airplane.

“I have control.” “You have control.”

In most classrooms, by contrast, the teacher never gives up control. 

For some reason we continue to insist upon controlling and managing every aspect of the learning process. Like I wrote in Lego, School, and the Box (parts I and II) we continue in this insane practice of telling children what to learn, when to learn it, how to learn it, and with whom to learn it.  

I am currently working with a highly respected colleague on a student-led learning process and the most difficult aspect for him is moving from the front of the classroom to the back.  I respect him for that admission.  It is difficult to give up control.  I’m sure it was also difficult for my instructor to step out of that airplane and let me fly it on my own for that first go-around.  But it was that first go-around, that first time alone in the airplane, in which I realized the power and freedom of flight – not to mention the endless possibility of human imagination and my own abilities. 

For hours before that first solo flight my instructor was there beside me – demonstrating, watching, tutoring, and encouraging.  He even jumped back into the airplane to teach me some more after those first few hours of solo flying. These things we do in schools, as they’re currently incarnated, very well.  What we could learn from flight school, however, is how to remove ourselves from the pilot’s seat.

I shudder, metaphorically and realistically speaking, to think that some of our children will never have the opportunity to hear the words “you have control.”  At what point, given these circumstances, will they discover their own endless potential?