Category: Education
Conferences are a day of school, not a day off school!
In some schools, conferences – whatever the configuration – are not seen as a “school day”. In other words, they are regarded as a “day off school” for the students, often by parents or school boards. As a result, school leadership teams may be forced into further devaluing them by squishing them into short a space of time so they don’t cause too much “disruption” to the learning. Teachers may then further devalue them by not having a plan, or not helping students prepare for them.
What a missed opportunity.
I see no place in a modern education for parent-teacher conferences, but a really well-prepared student/parent/teacher conference could actually be the most important learning experience a student has all year. Pressing pause, taking the time to reflect about what and how they are learning, having the opportunity to curate evidence and then the time and space to discuss it with their parents and their teachers is potentially profound.
Really good conferences are, in fact, the opportunities to do many of the things schools say they do. To breathe life into the buzz-words. The opportunities to develop “assessment capability”. The opportunities to nurture “agency”. The opportunities to “evidence learning”. The opportunities to foster a culture of meaningful “reflection”. The opportunities to increase genuine “parent participation”. The opportunities to make strides towards really becoming a “learning community”. This list could go on.
Sadly, though, it seems many schools are caught in a Catch-22 situation: conferences are undervalued and are, therefore, not set up to be as powerful as they should be. But, conferences are not set up to be as powerful as they should be and are, therefore, undervalued.
I keep saying “prepared” and “set up”, but what does this look like? Briefly, I believe it looks like this:
- Enough time is given for each conference. In my experience, 15 minutes is the bare minimum.
- Schools have formats for conferences that teachers must plan for and implement.
- Schools have high expectations for the quality of conferences.
- The priority must be that students lead the conversation. Naturally, it can take a few years to get them to that point, so there’s some gradual releasing of responsibility involved. But, by the time a student is in upper primary, they should be leading the conversation (and, I have seen 4-year-olds do this too).
- The emphasis must be on dialogue, not a teacher saying stuff while student and parent(s) listen.
- Priority must be given to looking at student work as a central part of conferences.
- Students must know, understand and be empowered by the format.
- Students must be given the time and the tools to be prepared.
If anything, these opportunities should be more frequent, not less.
My advice to anyone working in a school in which conferences are undervalued, is to raise the bar… and do it comprehensively. By helping parents and students have powerful conference experiences, it is inevitable that they will begin to value them and to understand their roles in making them powerful. Once this trend starts, conferences will become an important part of the school’s culture and the question about whether or not they are a day of school or a day off school will start to go away.
P.S. If your school only has parent-teacher conferences on the calendar, kick up a stink!
Wisdom, Plastic and Education.
One of the principles of the Time Space Education consultancy is the pursuit of wisdom. We define this as “seeing the big picture, having a sense of proportion and observing how things play out over a period of time.”
The intention of this principle is that education, and educators, know and understand that there is a difference between knowledge and wisdom, and that knowledge – on its own – is just not enough. Educators must, themselves, be in the pursuit of wisdom so that they may become the genuine mentors that they are supposed to be as they guide young people through their childhood. To believe we are solely purveyors of pieces of information and mechanical skills is to misunderstand the purpose and significance of the profession. It is to shirk our responsibility.
I write this blog post from a wooden bar on the beach in Zanzibar on the coast of East Africa. I have returned here after an absence of 30 years and this hiatus gives me the gift of “observing how things play out over a period of time”.
What I see is not a revelation, it is a reminder.
30 years ago these beaches were pristine. Fortunately, they’re still pretty clean… but they are not pristine. A walk along the beach reveals a large amount of plastic bottles and other plastic detritus. Nothing like the staggering quantities I have found on beaches in Thailand, Vietnam or Indonesia, but I guess it’s that “over time” aspect that hits me hardest here.
It is just as easy to accept no responsibility for this as to take on all the guilt for it. For me, the source of guilt is the fact that I have worked in a series of international schools in which we have done nothing, or done very little, about this issue. This is despite the fact that, as adult people who have experienced places without plastic, we know about the problem. As international educators, we have all stepped into many sullied paradises… of that I am sure.
But what is the effect of those experiences on us, thousands of teachers, thousands of us influencing – or at least with the capacity to influence – those young minds who look to us for guidance?
Well… let me tell you.
Many schools still sell drinks in plastic bottles.
Many schools still provide food in plastic containers and with plastic cutlery.
Many schools still run conferences and distribute plastic to participants.
Many teachers still order take-away food and stuff the packaging into crammed trash cans.
Many schools routinely order kilo after kilo of plastic crap, or other stuff that comes contained in plastic crap.
Many schools’ curricula contain glib references to environmental issues yet the schools themselves remain repeat offenders.
Many schools service the owners or employees of the industries that are the biggest offenders.
I could go on making this list for a while, but it would be very boring – anyone reading the blog post knows what’s coming. Like I said, It’s not the knowledge that is the problem. The problem is the absence of wisdom.
Wisdom would tell us to take a stance (something we are not really accustomed to doing in our profession).
Wisdom would tell us to bring the environment to the front and center of everything we do.
Wisdom would tell us to stop accepting, stop perpetuating, stop ignoring.
Wisdom would tell us that the custodianship of our world is one of only a few things that really matters, not an afterthought… not a thing to be left to the kids.
It is our responsibility to hold their hands… to show them what is happening, to help them learn about the systems and mental models that are the causes as well as the potential solutions, to demonstrate how to live differently and to empower them to live more differently than we can imagine. To live in ways that they can imagine, not to be prisoners of our indifference.
So – all those in the profession of education – be brave. Put things in place in your places of work that show you are wise, or at least in the pursuit of wisdom. Stop hiding behind meaningless educational jargon, and do something.
Maybe, just maybe, these Zanzibar beaches might be pristine again in 30 years time.
Why Bubblecatchers Matter
A few days ago, My family and I went for dinner at Anne’s house. Anne was one of my Mum’s closest friends when we lived in Tanzania in the 80s, and I haven’t seen her for 31 years. During the evening, I spotted a very nice notebook on the coffee table in front of us… “nice Bubblecatcher” I said.
“Ooooh yes… Bubblecatchers!” Anne replied with incredible enthusiasm.
It turns out that, for many years, Anne has shown her students at the International School of Tanganyika – and her students in the school she works in now – the video of my Learning2 talk in which I shared the story and concept of Bubblecatchers.
As we talked about how she has used them, I was reminded – again – of their profound importance, of the many nuanced habits that they encourage, of the way they can change and enhance relationships with writing for all sorts of purposes, the way they can become beautiful records of our lives and contain nuggets of information – written, drawn, scribbled, stuck in – that may reveal their importance at any moment.
Just this morning, I posted the photo on the left during breakfast in Zanzibar. On the other side of the world, my Mum – an avid Bubble Catcher – remembered a sketch she had done from almost the exact same spot over 30 years beforehand. She dug through her many notebooks, found the sketch and sent it to me.
When that kind of thing happens, there is a definite magic to it.
And, I think, there is a magic to the Bubblecatcher concept.
As teachers, we continue to fabricate things for students to write about… and are still surprised when they are reluctant to write, when they can see right through the situation and realize there is no genuine reason to write. They are not fools, they know they are being asked to write “just because”. That justification went out of fashion years ago.
Bubblecatchers turn this situation around. Life is full of reasons to write that require no fabrication. When we give our students rich and varied experiences, when we put them in situations or contexts that are interesting or inspiring, when we empower them by helping them see that the things they do, the things they need to do and the things they have done are valuable and worth remembering… then writing them down makes perfect sense.
And, their Bubblecatcher is the perfect place to write them.
Next school year, I challenge all teachers to be like Anne and take their students on the Bubblecatcher journey. Take them somewhere to buy notebooks, or just give them a week or two to buy them in their own time (choosing their own is an important ingredient). Then, bring in the habit of jotting things down in them, of carrying them around to different learning experiences, of quickly writing to-do lists at the end of the day, of taking notes and quotes when watching a video, of doodling in them when there’s some time to spare, of pausing for a moment and recording how you all feel.
And, have your own Bubblecatcher so you are with them.
Don’t mark the writing, but also make sure it is not always private. Invite students to read things out sometimes. Model the enjoyment of the words, model the satisfaction of crossing out an item on a list, give them the beautiful sensation of having something they said become a quote that shifts your collective understanding.
Let your pedagogy create the bubbles… and then let the notebooks catch them.
P.S. a digital replacement is a cop-out, don’t kid yourself. A real Bubblecatcher doesn’t need charging.
Your Inner Resources
A long time ago, during a workshop – probably PYP – we were encouraged to develop a kind of filter as we planned for learning. This filter required us to ask… will our students remember or be able to use this in 40 minutes, 40 hours, 40 days, 40 weeks, 40 months, 40 years? It wasn’t an exact science, of course, but it was an interesting way to think about what we teach students and its long term impact on their lives.
I feel like we need to be using a similar filter at the moment as we – educators – endeavor to preserve our inner resources at a time when they are being threatened more so than ever before. Those inner resources are our time and our thoughts.
Right now, for educators, it seems like there is no boundary between working and not working. My wife, for example, teaches kindergarten all day – with students in the room, students online in real-time and students online and out of sync – and then works much of the night and weekend planning for that – because it’s [insert expletive] complex!. All the teachers are doing this. People in leadership positions have been scrambling 24/7 since February or March to keep schools operational, to solve perpetual problems, to manage parent expectations, to tread the fine line between supporting colleagues without overloading them, to plan for what’s coming next without knowing what’s coming next.
Our precious inner resource – time – which was already under threat in our profession, has become a serious issue. Individually, we must apply some filters to how we use our time, to what we allow to occupy our time and to help us ensure we preserve time and take care of it.
Then there’s our thoughts.
Teaching was already a profession that caused us to think about our work at almost every moment – both awake and asleep. Teaching nightmares are highly prevalent in our world. Waking up at 3am worrying about that student happens to us all. Even in those moments of solitude – a shower, a walk – our minds are still processing our work, generating ideas, solving problems, making plans. It doesn’t stop. How often do you hear educators say they wish they had a job they could do, be done, go home and not think about it? They mean it, but also don’t mean it because they know that’s not who they are.
So, that other precious inner resource – our thought – is like a tap that never turns off. It’s like continuing to water a plant even though its waterlogged. Try and turn that tap off, however you can, so you can preserve your thoughts for the things that will matter. That’s easier said than done, right? I mean, doesn’t everything matter in education? It would seem so. But when you really start trying to filter, some things will inevitably reveal themselves as not mattering so much, not now, not then… maybe never.
The image above works as an effective filter. But you could easily add more layers to it – like things that matter now, things that really matter, things that will still matter tomorrow!
Trust: The delicate balance
I know many people who have worked in many schools. A recurring theme in conversation and behaviour is an unwillingness, or inability to trust. A kind of protective wall, probably erected because of previous bad experiences.
I too have found myself silently uttering the negative mantra of “trust nobody” at certain times in my life, nearly always as a result of being “burned” by someone professionally in some way. But, even as I do that, I know that is not a good way to live. If we are all, or if most of us, are living that way in our schools then it means trust is absent from our culture. If trust is absent from our culture then it will become apparent to our students too – they don’t miss much you know! If it becomes apparent to our students it means we are modeling it to them. If we are modeling it to them it is more likely to become a thing for them too.
I’m not writing this post because I have the answer. Bestowing, investing, earning, denying and betraying trust are all complex parts in the bigger complexity of what it means to be human.
What I will say, however, is that there are things that can be done to create the conditions for trust to thrive in our schools. A quick search online, or reading a couple of books will show us that. The most important thing is that leadership teams in schools understand how much trust matters, how much having ways of getting along matters, how intensifying relationships can transform the work… and then setting out to make that a priority for them, and for all the protagonists in the school community.
The only way to make it a priority is to give it thought and give it time.
Forget multi-tasking (it’s B.S.)
There is something utterly compelling about a person who does one thing, and who does that one thing deeply.
Think about how transfixed we are by TV shows about bakers, tailors, photographers, make-up artists, chefs, glass-blowers, BBQ-ers, farmers, designers, surfers… its a very, very long list. But the common thread is that these are all people who do one thing, and who do that one thing deeply.
If you’re like me, when you’re learning about people like that, you experience a mixture of emotions that range from awe to envy.
But, mostly, it makes me ask questions:
- How did they find their thing?
- What is my thing?
- How do we help young people find their thing?
- Is it good to have “a thing“?
- Does “school” help people find their thing?
- How many disciplines can blend into one thing?
- Do we find our thing by accident… through serendipity?
- How do we create the conditions for serendipity in schools?
- What is the relationship between having a thing and being happy… or fulfilled?
- What is like to ‘be fulfilled’?
These are complex questions… each worthy of a long and detailed study. If doing so is our thing!
Personally, I’d love to work in a school that was designed to help students identify things they want to work on deeply, for extended periods of time. A school dedicated to the pursuit of the flow state. Sadly, I probably never will… it just doesn’t seem to be compatible with the school institution.
In the meantime, perhaps something I can take away is that multi-tasking is B.S. When we’re multi-tasking, we’re doing several things badly. Our concentration is fragmented and interrupted. People who have a thing are generally “mono-tasking”, their concentration is focused, their time is dedicated to doing that thing fully, deeply.
So, I suppose the actual thing is less important than the knowledge that we need to mono-task, to allow ourselves to focus fully on what we’re doing… knowing, without doubt, that we do things better that way because years and years of human history tells us that is the case – no matter how unfashionable that may be.
The Malnourished Leader
I have been in an educational leadership role for seven years – a PYP Coordinator in two schools and now a Director of Learning.
I have been wondering what is wrong with me for some time. I feel depleted, drained, like the life force and joie-de-vivre has been sucked from me. I fall asleep on the sofa. I’ve stopped all my hobbies.
I am boring. So boring that I bore myself.
Today, I had a bit of an epiphany about why I might be feeling this way.
I think I’m malnourished… if we think of inspiration as nourishment.
Inspiration comes from multiple directions when you’re a teacher, it comes from your colleagues, from your students, from professional learning, from books, from that TED talk, from the world around you. It also comes, or should come, from the educational leaders in your school.
As a leader, people depend on you for inspiration, and so you provide it… and provide it… and provide it. At first, if you’ve just come out of a teaching role, it’s fairly easy and natural to do so. You have your experiences, your approaches, your materials still in your hand, still warm. But those gradually fade and your new reality takes over. People continue to take, but little or nothing replaces what is taken. You look outwards for inspiration, for nourishment, for things that re-connect you with what you loved about education.
But, where is it coming from? Where do you look for it… and why should you have to look for it? That’s kind of tiring in itself! Looking for inspiration can quickly become more work for you to add to your interminable to-do list.
People in educational leadership positions need nourishment. Even if it’s not inspiration, they need someone, sometimes to acknowledge their work, to say “hey – thanks for setting that up”. 99.99% (I just made that up) of all feedback given to people in leadership positions is negative – not “thanks for doing this” but instead “why isn’t this like that?”.
Sure, we know what we’re getting into and, as I often hear people say “that’s why you get paid the big bucks”. But, correct me if I’m wrong, none of us got into this profession for the money. And, its a well-known fact that there’s often teachers on staff in schools who get paid more than people in leadership positions.
I don’t want to turn this into a wining, feel-sorry-for-leaders blog post. Instead, perhaps it could be a provocation for the people who exist around leaders, on every angle. Have you sent your principal an example of something amazing your students did? Have you let your director know how a recent decision they made turned out well for you? Have you popped in and told your coordinator about an idea you’re developing?
Try it. Nourish them.
They’re probably hungry.
Be careful with Seesaw
A friend of mine returned from Canada recently having been shocked by the proliferation of home-monitoring technology since his last visit and the number of his friends and family who now engage constantly in watching the goings-on in their houses while they’re out.
This really got me thinking about how the existence of new technology creates new habits and how this is true also of work. The developments in technology have led to different types of work and the fact that we can, and feel like we should, be working all the time. This isn’t a revolutionary thought, people talk about it all the time. However, I want to focus on one piece of technology, Seesaw.
The advent of Seesaw is exciting. It makes things possible that weren’t really possible before. In a nutshell, it is really the first way that teachers can do quick and easy documentation that is instantly shareable with parents who can see it using an app on their own devices.
Great! Right?
Well, not if you’re not really careful about how you use it.
You see, things that seem cool and different at first can quickly transform themselves into an expectation and therefore into work. If you’re not really, really purposeful about how you use Seesaw, it’s going to rapidly become a pretty pointless instant scrapbooking activity that gives parents a steady stream of images from within the classroom that they are going to depend upon but not necessarily learn anything from.
So, now you’ve got to deal with all of the massively important complexities of being a good teacher while also contend with providing a steady stream of posts that show everyone what you’re doing – basically classroom social media. Some people deal with this by handing responsibility over to the kids and calling it “agency”. But this, more often than not, leads to a steady stream of low-quality images or videos that are captured with little thought or purpose and that provide parents with little or no substantial information about the nature of the learning that students are engaged in. It also engages students in screentime that has little or no value. What’s more, it kind of feels like a gateway to the behaviours we see around us in society of having to post things on social media in order to prove they happened!
In your schools, put the following questions at the centre of everything you do with Seesaw:
When we post something on Seesaw, what are we communicating about the type of learning we value?
When people see what we post, what will they learn about the type of learning we value?
If you have some pretty good answers to these questions… proceed. If, however, your answers are “nothing” or “we’re not sure” or “we haven’t thought about it” then stop using Seesaw immediately and resume only when you have made some proper plans that will make it purposeful.
Part of those plans should involve making some BIG decisions about who your intended audience is for Seesaw:
- Is the intended audience limited to colleagues? Some schools have taken this approach to great effect and used Seesaw purely for pedagogical documentation that is then used to inform responsive planning sessions. Of course, you’re going to have to wrap some intelligent ways of working around this – mainly involving time.
- Are parents the intended audience? If so, make sure you are providing them with quality content that shapes their understanding about what education is, what learning looks like and what you are trying to achieve in your school, grade level or class. This is your chance to really have an effect on them – which of course can go either way!
- Are students the intended audience? If so, you will need to make some plans for how they will make informed decisions about what content to post and why, reflect on their content, how they will receive feedback on their content and how their content will be used as evidence of learning that will inform next steps. This is going to involve a lot of thinking tools and just-in-time instruction to guide them towards those habits and practices.
I’m going to stop here… I think that’s plenty of food for thought for now. Please give it some thought! I hate to see so much time being wasted on something that may be pointless, or even harmful.
The Magic of Project-Based Learning
Project-Based Learning is an approach that exhibits many dimensions. Students learn through the experience of doing. Early Learning and our Early Learners in many ways have mastered the art of Project-Based Learning and the Reggio philosophy is very much aligned with that approach. It begins with setting up a stimulating environment (not too much, not too little) and observe what children do, through play. Students at this age are naturally curious to explore and it is us as educators that need to respond to the pathways each individual (or group) is intrigued about, connected to or interested in. Let students determine their own learning landscape. There is a huge parallel with PBL here. Sometimes educators can ignite and motivate students to explore a particular path, and sometimes it comes from the students to spark their own passionate pursuits. In balance, there needs to be an interplay of both.
The important thing here is that schools create the space for students to explore areas that speak to them. It is a lot like a calling. The magic in these moments is that inspiration can come from everywhere. It may be innate and the time is ripe to listen to this voice and act on it. Sometimes it could be something that strikes like a lightning bolt out of nowhere. It’s all beautiful. It’s what we do with this magic dust that makes the difference with how students interact with this new found learning experience. Do we breathe life into it or blow the dust away?
Above I mentioned the power of Early Years and Early Learning. At this spectrum in schools, learning needs to rise up and radiate throughout the rest of the school and then cascade into universities. A bit more pressure needs to be applied so that universities review their old habits and traps of learning. We have to be better than ‘managing people’ or ‘generating profit’ as our model for higher education.
If I was to characterize PBL in very simple terms using contexts I’m familiar with… it would be to combine the Grade 5 PYP Exhibition (Year-long) with the Early Years philosophy of purposeful play. A pinch of seeing the environment as the third teacher, a dollop of observing what is revealed and a cup of allowing a flow of exploration and discovery. A merging of these two worlds and releasing the learning so it is unfiltered. This is the world I hope our students get to interact with.
Some may argue that this approach is not rigorous enough. What is rigor though? Rigor is not looking busy, being quiet and doing lots of writing – that’s compliance. My definition (in essence) of ‘rigor’ is creating a learning environment that inspires, where students are able to skillfully interpret and construct meaning and seek ways so that understanding is transferable in different contexts. So how can we ensure PBL covers core content and subjects? This is often asked by parents and teachers. We all know that learning something we’re not interested in equates to passive learning; therefore, not much learning is really happening anyway. There is far greater benefit if students are learning about what is timely for them, see relevance and meaning in what they want to do. It’s vital that they see and value learning as constantly moving from one shape to another. This is where being reflective about their growth and progress (high and lows) on a continuum of learning. Students are empowered to set goals that are realistic and also challenging. As advisors and connectors to learning, we need to guide and coach individual students towards areas that they need to be exposed to and having them understand the purpose of how that learning is interconnected, transformational and transferable. Let this process be a natural and highly-personal experience for them. This approach will have a deeper impact when developing new understanding(s) to existing knowledge. This is what constructivism is and it works.
The university conversation is one that still needs a lot more time. My hope is that university entry is based on merit, contributions to society and digital portfolios that document authentic experiences that demonstrate learning in action. Not testing or assessment. The assessment is weighted in the doing, being and showing, not in a timed examination without access to resources – that’s not real-world.
Imagine a world where PBL become the norm, not the exception. Imagine a world where students could show their intelligence, personality, uniqueness, quirks, and talents in creative ways as a showcase of who they are as young dynamic moral leaders. Imagine a world where success was based on confidence, optimism, resilience, problem-solving and creativity. Imagine a world that actually looks at how far you have grown over time, not where you stand at that point in time. Imagine a world where we were telling raw human stories about all our breakdowns and breakthroughs and how this shaped who we have become. It is my hope that universities don’t measure success on a raw test score of what you know or have memorized a few days before. But it is determined rather on what you have achieved and accomplished over the course of many young adolescent years, not the scarce accumulation of one or two. Again, this is why Early Years needs to push up through our tired school systems to ratify change and renewal. It is simply too top-down in our education system, where it needs to be from the roots up from a nutrient foundation.
We are just scratching the surface. There are some great educators out there doing great things for our deserving kids. I encourage those who have a hunch that things are not right in our traditional school system, to experiment and tinker with giving PBL. Whether you call it Passions Projects, Inquiry Time, 20% Time or Genius Hour… have a go. Your students will thank you for it and will surprise you every step of the way. It’s the only way we are ever going to shake things up – demanding different!
Lessons from Reggio Emilia #2: Purpose, Clarity and Strength
The second in a series of posts about what we all – regardless of location, curriculum and age level – can learn from the philosophy, practices and people of Reggio Emilia.
There is a powerful certainty that underlies everything the educators in Reggio Emilia do and say. There is an incredible clarity of purpose behind all actions, all words and all decisions. This clarity is unifying, and gives educators strength as they work together to teach in a way that is actually much more difficult than traditional, teach-from-the-box or from-the-planner approaches. This clarity makes it very easy to help new parents understand their approach, their methods, their beliefs about the capacities of children and the parenting styles that are compatible with these beliefs.
The source of this sense of purpose is easily identifiable when the history of the Reggio Emilia approach to education is explained and illustrated to you. It can be traced back to the emergence from the horrors of World War II and the determination of a group of villagers that schooling, for their children and future generations, must have the rights of children at its epicentre. Over the years, this conviction remains just as strong. But, it has also expanded into additional beliefs about the competence of children and the quality of education that they deserve.
There are no grey areas in this, no confusion and certainly no fluffiness.
The schools you and I work in, though, are often prone to such weaknesses – philosophical gaps, indecisiveness and differing practices. We believe we are unified by the fact that we work at, for example, an IB school. Yet, even then, we find ourselves at odds with our colleagues, we even work with colleagues who don’t really believe in what they’re doing, and therefore don’t really do it – whatever it is (something we also struggle to reach a genuine consensus about!). These inconsistencies are sources of weakness – they hold us back in terms of what we are able to do with and for children – but they also make it too easy for parents to pick holes in what we do. We are unable to give parents real explanations because we may not really be sure of what we’re doing, or what we do may differ so much from person to person, from grade level to grade level, from year to year that any explanation may simply be untrue.
Beyond this, though, is the sense that many of our schools lack any kind of genuine ethical stance or purpose beyond teaching some kids of some people who can pay us to teach their kids. This is something that has bothered me for some time as I look around at the world and question the impact of education on society. I think its high time our schools traced back their origins to seek some kind of moral purpose and, if there isn’t one, engage with the whole community to develop one. A real one. Not a collection of fluffy throw-away sentiments in a mission statement.
Perhaps these questions might help:
- In what ways are we, and the surrounding community, better because of the existence of our school?
- What are our shared beliefs about life and what we hope for the future?
- How much of what happens inside the walls of our school is affected by what happens outside the walls of our school?
- What do we hope the impact of our school will be in 50 years time?
Time Space Education 