Another classroom observation, allowing myself to observe while I reflect, personally, about teaching and learning.

This is my second full day as a visitor here. I’m greeted by a student as we reach the school’s main entrance together, then I have a chuckle with two faculty members who are trying to squeeze through the security turnstile together. One of them has forgotten his school badge. I’m feeling less new to the school. I don’t even get lost on my way to the classroom.

The first student to enter the classroom is working to complete a lengthy essay, the EPQ of the British A levels. She tells the teacher she lost some of her computer files. She has asked for an extension. The teacher is empathetic, but also takes the opportunity to mention how students were advised to finish the essay far in advance of the deadline. The student isn’t completely ready to accept responsibility, she shifts the blame, at least part of it, to technology, our modern day scapegoat.

Students sit at tables forming a U. The teacher is at the board. She starts. The topic is industrialization. Names I’m not familiar with: Bello, Bauer, Rostow, Shiva. Concepts I can’t say much about: neoliberalism, ecofeminism. The teacher is leading a review, she asks questions as she writes on the board. Students take notes, mostly on computers or tablets. The only one using paper and pen is the one who lost some of the files for her essay. Coincidence? A few students tend to answer the majority of the teacher’s questions, like almost always in a lecture punctuated with questions along the way. About half of the students have been quiet so far. 

I wonder if students know how impressive we adults find them. Intimidating, even. Generations are a bit like waves hitting the beach, music genres, new iPhone models. We older folks don’t get replaced, at least not immediately, but we get less relevant, less looked to, our ideas grow old, we ebb. Here we are, teaching the next generation that will replace us. These students, in their last year of prep school, are applying now to universities with names we likely recognize. These folks are impressive. Do they know how impressive they are? How much they know? They certainly don’t know how much they are going to forget, that’s something we come to terms with later in life.

I’m at the school this week as a researcher, investigating the extent to which the school has a university feel. The website declares: we believe that a good university experience starts in school, which is why Akademeia looks, feels and operates like a university. Sure enough, you could drop this class into any self-respecting university and no one would bat an eye. One student came late, entered without disturbing the flow, students get up when they need a break. There was no drawn out attendance-taking at the beginning, no school announcements. Students take notes, contribute, occasionally introduce sidebars to the conversation. I didn’t know that Amazon was in legal trouble over draconian practices regarding employee breaks, for example. And while this class is solidly teacher led, student input is not blocked, there is flow back and forth.

A student enters thirty minutes into class. The teacher greets her with a hello. “I’m so sorry,” the student says. “That’s okay.” The other students don’t miss a beat, they continued their discussion. It has shifted to racism, not the teacher’s intention, but important to the students. The teacher waits for the right moment to redirect. It’s so subtle I miss it. Then ten minutes later she announces a break and hardly anyone leaves. They want to return to their discussion of racism.  

They give us hope for the future, these students. And they are going to need to be every bit as clever as they are.