This week we offered six workshops on IB practice. Something like 150 parents attended, and many others were wait-listed for these workshops. Our families brought their questions and concerns, which we both anticipated and welcomed. After all, the implementation of the International Baccalaureate continuum is a radical departure from our Baldwin narrative; from the way most of us were taught, or even think.
I have commented many times on the logic guiding the decision to become an IB school. My argument--based on learning research and best practices, the emerging nature of knowledge and information systems, and global economic, social, and political trends--is that the world has changed dramatically in the past few decades, and the industrial model of education that sorts children according to arbitrary and limiting approaches to knowledge and learning prepares them not for this century, but for the last. IB is not a cure for this model, not a revision; it is reinvention, a remembering of thousands of years of direct, contextualized, experiential learning. In IB there is one golden rule--no one gets to avoid thinking for themselves.
IB is a systemic approach to teaching, learning, and assessment. For students, IB is a collection of approaches, practices, and experiences that help initiate and shape habits of mind. For schools, IB is a discipline. We are required to live up to what we say we believe about learning. The decision to become an IB school is no small thing. Our adults are subjected to a thorough examination of their practices, and to rigorous and continuous professional development. We must be an IB school before we get to claim the title. Every unit, every assessment, every policy, every educator, is subject to an exhaustive review process. Once authorized, we must continue to show evidence of growth, and our school is regularly re-evaluated. We are mid-stream in our transformation. Our teachers are working to understand and, harder still, implement these new ideas and practices. I am so very impressed by all of the work our teachers have and are doing to grow our programs.
Most of us grew up with a very different learning experience: sit at the desk, listen to the teacher, memorize the content, recall at a moment's notice, rinse and repeat. Our subjects, like our desks, were aligned into distinct and discernible spaces. This experience was uninterrupted well into, and perhaps even throughout, university. Then we hit the so-called "real-world", and the lines blurred. How we knew, and how effectively we leveraged our skills and talents, brought our knowledge to bear, and considered the ethical implications of our choices, became the real indicators of our success. The irony of modern education is that we continue to do what we have done for more than a century, what we know to be incongruent with our adult experiences, and wonder why nothing is changing. This just so happens to be the definition of insanity. At Baldwin, we intend to write a different story.
We will keep working at change. Change is scary, especially for adults, educators and parents alike. We know what we know, and fear what we don't. This is ever more true when our children are on the line, and rightfully so. Keep asking your questions. Keep holding us accountable. I only ask that we be allowed the space to grow, and that you keep an open mind.
See you around campus.