Redefining Rigor

“Demanding, difficult.” “Thorough, exhaustive, accurate.” “Strictness, severity.” All are modern definitions of “rigor" I found in various dictionaries. And I also found one particularly troubling  synonym: "misery.”

Lots of parents are looking for an “academically rigorous” school experience for their child. But I know no parent who want their kids anywhere near an “academically miserable” school.

Let’s reframe “rigor.” It’s certainly good for kids to experience discipline, thoroughness, and challenge. But the best learning experiences present rigor with activities that are deeply thoughtful, mind-expanding and exciting.

Given that, which of these rigorous experiences do we want for our children?

Do we want them to plod against closed-ended, multiple choice bubble tests with only one correct answer? Or assessments that require students to analyze real-life situations and dilemmas that have more than one answer?

Do we want our kids to memorize facts that will soon be forgotten? Or do we want them to learn how to find facts for themselves and use them in an authentic way?

A few years ago, teachers at The Lawrenceville School in New Jersey, a school widely regarded as the pinnacle of educational rigor, conducted a powerful experiment. At the end of the academic year, teachers administered traditional science tests to high schoolers. The tests were replete with facts and formulas that required significant memorization. 

Lawrenceville students being high achievers, it was not surprising that the average grade was 87%. In the fall of the following school year, the teachers, without prior notice, administered a nearly identical test to the same group of students. The average grade was 58%. Students had retained virtually nothing over the summer. What, then, was the value of what they had “learned?” This experiment set Lawrenceville on a new path of designing cognitively rich and meaningful experiences for its students.

The rigor of today is not what it used to be. It still implies hard work, discipline, and completeness. But it also means that students engage meaningfully, cognitively, and authentically in learning experiences.

And it certainly doesn’t have to mean misery. 

Moving Beyond Fear

Originally published in November 2015

Earlier this week, the City of Houston voted down a standing city ordinance aimed at protecting the civil rights of many of its citizens, most notably transgender people. At the heart of the vote was what has become the undignified threshold question that trans people face: What bathroom do they use?

Houston, like many other big cities such as Dallas and San Antonio, once honored the extensive research about (and the American Medical Association's recognition of) the complex issue of gender identity--that some people have a legitimate mental and emotional disconnect from their biological sex, and identify more closely with the opposite gender. This recognition enabled trans people to legally use the bathroom of the gender with which they identify.

But some Houstonians--fearful that such an ordinance would enable male predators to accost women in public restrooms--succeeded in repealing it, chiefly through a well-crafted television campaign that stoked terror and fear in the hearts of voters. [N.B. Neither Dallas nor San Antonio has reported incidents of such violence toward women in public restrooms.]

I cite this recent news not to promote a political "agenda"--I believe that respecting people for who they are is a simple matter of honoring human dignity and has no place in politics.

But there is one destructive reality that resides at the core of the example above: Fear is alive and well in our world.

Fear divides us. It perpetuates a simplistic, binary worldview--good/bad, black/white, liberal/conservative, us/them. Our schools should be focused squarely on the goal of eradicating such irrational fears, helping students to understand that the world is a place with endless possibilities and no limitations.

Fear is the enemy of innovation, of reasonable risk-taking. If I try and fail, then I'm no good.

Fear is what keeps us wed to educational practices that are valueless, like administering vapid, state-mandated standardized tests and training kids to crave the approval of others by giving letter grades. If I don't score well on the test or get good grades, I will not get into a good school. I won't live a good life.

Fear keeps us from truly getting to know other people and forming strong relationships. If I hang out with the brainiacs, then the cool kids won't like me. 

We are the models for our children. They take their cues from us. If we act with fear, they learn to be fearful. As parents and educators who want our children to be their best selves--happy, well-adjusted, fearless people--let's set a higher bar. We can embrace the power of nurture, inquiry, forgiveness, and love. Our children will take notice. And they won't be afraid anymore.