Principally Yours

For Christmas this year, I received the usual assortment of books, classical CDs, and movies.  Generally, I find that by the time my birthday rolls around a month later I have listened to the CDS, I have watched the movies, and the books . . ., well, the books are still sitting forlornly on my bookshelf.  But this year was different.  For the first time I finished a book before listening to the CDs or watching the movies.  This year’s book was Malcolm Gladwell’s most recent journalistic exploration of a big idea, “Outliers: The Story of Success”.  As with “The Tipping Point: How Little Things Can Make a Big Difference”, Gladwell demonstrates that if you have an eye for big patterns, an ear for a good story, and the time to dredge up a few studies, you can write and sell intriguing books, and might even be chosen as one of Time magazine’s 100 most influential people (as Gladwell was in 2005).  Moreover, not only might you be called influential, but you might actually influence people – or at least, some people.  Not so, the reviewer for the New York Times (http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/18/books/18kaku.html), who damned it in one sentence as “glib, poorly reasoned and thoroughly unconvincing.”  My head, which had been nodding along as I read Gladwell’s book, was suddenly locked in mid-nod.

Why, I wondered, am I so easily taken in by Gladwell’s assertions that success is caused by so many factors that have nothing to do with the innate brilliance or talent of the individual who achieves success?  Is it because I am Canadian (as is Gladwell, as it turns out) and, as a neighbour to an economic and military superstar, am more easily persuaded that there is nothing inherently better about those who experience success?  Perhaps.  Or maybe it’s just because I am a principal.

As a principal, I have to believe in the external factors that affect success, because I represent an institution that is one of those factors.  Schools are not in the business of identifying those who will be successful.  Schools should be in the business of building success for all, no matter the genetic makeup.  But more than that, schools are in the business of helping young people define success for themselves.

And that is where I part company with Gladwell.  One of the aspects of Gladwell’s book that struck me was how success is defined.  The “successful” personalities that stand out in his book include the very rich, the best at sports, and the best musicians.  Primarily, success is defined by those who have single-mindedly pursued a particular vocation with a great deal of focus and expenditure of time.  A lot of time.  One of the studies that Gladwell uses in support of his thesis demonstrated that mastery of anything takes 10,000 hours of dedicated time.  Why do we define success in the narrow sense of success in one occupation or area of expertise?

In the first place, success at one thing is so much more noticeable than a life that successfully balances the many aspects of life.  Narrowly defined successes are so easily captured in a two hour movie, a one hour documentary, or a sound bite.  Not so, a life of balance.  Only those who narrowly focus upon a single vocation can hope to generate impressive statistics – number of goals scored, billions made, or Oscars awarded – and statistics are the indisputable evidence that a data-driven society demands.

Which leads to the second reason that success is defined so narrowly.  We measure success in such a way because we believe that our lives as humans are to be measured not by who we are, but by what we achieve.  Our children are taught at the youngest of ages that their products are what distinguish them and are the measure of their worth.  We give marks for essays and paintings, not for goodness or the right attitude.  Money, the modern measure of all, buys only products and services that can attract a buck.  There is no visible compensation for so many virtues – patience, forbearance, forgiveness, modesty, and humility among them – and many go unspoken.

And finally, success in a single sphere is made to appear of greater benefit to our society than a life well lived.  When historians write of the changes that led to our current technologically advanced, democratic Western society, they focus upon the individuals who sacrificed so much to make a mark on the world – Einstein, Picasso, Marx, and Beethoven, to name but a few.  As a society, we hold up those who have had an impact in the area of their expertise, recognizing our debt to them. 

But, is a successful life truly defined by one’s success in a narrow field?  How does a life spent mastering a skill or producing great wealth compare to a life that is balanced, marked by caring, and guided by compassion?  And what schooling will allow children to raise such questions, and prompt children to measure themselves by who they are, and not merely by the marks and awards they receive, the money they earn, and the impact they have? 

The International Baccalaureate programmes, especially the Diploma programme,  are frequently thought of as programmes that present academic challenges leading to a university education, but what is not often noticed is the degree to which they foster values not measured by the score out of 45 that one receives at the very end.  One of the more broad-minded developments of the IBO has been the introduction of the Learner Profile, an ambitious description of values that an IB learner is to strive to make his or her own.  In addition to the more obvious attributes, such as being knowledgeable, a thinker, a communicator, and an inquirer, the IB calls upon students to be risk-takers, caring, principled, well-balanced, open-minded and reflective.  These do not make up the typical recipe for success.

Thus, in my school, where we offer all three programmes, I am emboldened by the thought that the curriculum our school brings to life is committed to something more than academic success, narrowly conceived.  I am also encouraged by the fact that the programme run for the youngest members of our school, the Primary Years Programme, is an inquiry-based programme, that values the real questions that children have about the world, and places them at the forefront of the learning process.  And moreover, I find in all levels of the IB, a commitment to critical thinking, the skill most needed to assist our students in their effort to define success for their own lives.

But we must stretch beyond our well-intentioned programmes, and act in the name of their values.  As Gandhi said, “We need to be the change we wish to see in the world”.  We must not give in to those who would measure our school purely by scores and scholarships.  We must not reserve our accolades for those who have succeeded at athletics and academics.  In assemblies and in classes we must speak of values not often championed in the media.  In programming and cultural visits, we must be prepared to give our children real opportunities to engage with a world with which they are not accustomed, granting them the scope to develop open-mindedness and caring relationships.  We must encourage our students to raise difficult questions, to choose the roads less travelled, and to follow their hearts.

Thus, it is my hope, that when I next address a class of graduates, or group of new parents  I don’t merely pronounce the expected : that I commit to ensuring that every child in my school is a success in their chosen field.  I hope to remember that as important as it is to create impact players in the world, it is equally important that children be given the tools and experiences to allow them to discern what makes for a truly successful life, and that they develop a passion for such a life.

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