The line comes from Shaw's play Major Barbara, which is perfectly British in that it hits you over the head with themes of morality vs. materialism. Spoiler: in the end, utilitarianism wins.
 
If I sit with the quote, it takes different forms. To learn something is to lose naivete. Naivete might be synonymous with innocence, or childhood, or even nostalgia, which makes the loss heartbreaking. Shaw is suggesting the antithesis of ignorance is bliss. Instead, he says knowledge is worth loss. And/or he's saying loss is not loss. And/or: anti-intellectualism is bad. And/or: have you seen Pleasantville?

The quote reminds me of an essay I teach in creative writing that students often love, called "The Things I've Lost" by Brian Arundel. The essay explores the literal and the abstract things we lose throughout our lifetimes, how the small and the large can be one in the same. On Brevity,  an education piece by Shuly Xóchitl Cawood notes, "[part of Arundel's essay] is largely focused on beliefs he has lost, and isn’t that the sign of wisdom gained through life lessons?" Wisdom comes from loss, because loss makes us grow; the holes that come from loss need to be patched, and quickly, with the sticky substance of knowledge, which is defined in many ways: grief, hope, intellect, power, reflection. What we've lost is just as much our personal identity, our autobiography, as the things we are or the things we've done.

While this allows for lovely existential reflection, there are ties to education as well--how we learn/lose and how our students do the same. When I showed one of Third Eye Education’s founders, Heather Lyke, the quote, she gave me a perfect response: It's not about "best practices"--it's about "better practices." We have to let go of what we knew was best to find the next best--often there is something better.
 
There was a time in history when teachers of yore were very excited about worksheets, how they would help students become stronger readers. (I like to think of this conversation: "No, no, see--I'll leave blanks and the students have to fill them in.") There are times when worksheets are great--the blanks are a metaphor for loss, I mean--but I think consensus is that worksheets should never do the heavy lifting. We know now students learn better when they are creating and questioning and writing their own worksheets. Research does not reach an endpoint. We do not say okay, we won research! That's a wrap! Everyone go home! We learn, ∞. This is social science and hard science in harmony. Think of how dull the field of education would be if we ever reached a finish line.

Looking further into the quote's diction, I interpret "learned" in a couple of ways. "Learned" could mean enlightenment, or a simple fact, or both. (Another quote I have in my classroom is Afred Lord Tennyson[2]'s: "knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers." You can memorize the formula, but the wisdom is knowing when to use it.)

And there are the words "at first that feels like you've lost something." But you didn't actually lose, did you.

At the end of our metaphysics unit in philosophy (how do we know what is real, how do we know what is True), I show my students a web comic from The Oatmeal (author Matthew Inman) that explains the psychological response when our Truths are challenged. (As educators, when our best practices are challenged.)

​The first line of the comic reads "you are not going to believe what I am going to tell you."  In the following panels, Inman offers facts that help readers judge the "barometer" of their reactions. In the first example, he considers what most of us are taught: George Washington had wooden teeth. We begin on common ground. Then, he offers a new fact: George Washington not only had wooden teeth, but in 2005, the National Museum of Dentistry confirmed his dentures also included "horse and donkey teeth." (Inman calls it a "petting zoo of nightmares.") He asks us to consider the amount of "friction" we encounter after learning this. Generally, a reader would think wow that's nasty, but it wouldn't impact what they think of Washington. The final fact Inman offers: Washington's dentures may have been made from the teeth of slaves. This fact causes the most friction, and we must consider why. This knowledge stings: a founding father crossing the Delaware, a hero, did terrible things.
 
Inman explains our friction by means of science: "the part of the brain that responds to a physical threat also responds to an intellectual one." If something we've stood by in the classroom is challenged, we react in the same way we would to an alligator holding a knife or an administrator sending a vague email to meet him in his office. Our core practices are a house, and a challenge to them knocks the entire house down, implying we no longer have any practices. Thus, our amygdalas tell us to defend it. But wisdom says: build a new house. It's okay. (Inman offers solutions in the form of a pinky toe.)

In the perfect way it's supposed to, The Oatmeal's comic forced a metacognitive gag reflex in me, that I, too, have a house of comfort/knowledge. To build a house is a lot of work, and it's much easier to reject the new information. "At first," I feel as though I've lost my entire framework of pedagogy. I "learn" to rebuild again and again. This also could move beyond self-denial. If someone you value and trust helped you build your house, to let it fall could be taken to mean that person once lied to you, or betrayed you. While this is not the case, it is the response our brain offers. I train myself to understand that no, my second grade teacher Ms. Henderson, who taught me lies about Christopher Columbus, has not betrayed me. It was 1989, and school curriculum had a lot of work to do. ("In nineteen-hundred eighty-nine, some wrong school teachers told us lies…")
 
There's a lot at stake if you change your mind. You have to admit you were once wrong. At the start of the pandemic, scientists said masks weren't needed, and then they said we definitely needed masks. While some took that to mean scientists knew nothing about Covid because they changed their mind, most of us took it to mean they were doing their jobs, and it was saving our lives. That new knowledge meant Covid was more serious than we thought, which was scary. That stung. It'd be easier to say the scientists were wrong.

In a similar way, society considers a politician, or a political party, as wishy-washy if they change their mind or platform. It is ingrained in us that changing our position is in bad form. Honestly, I'd prefer a leader (a teacher, a boss) who changes their mind when they learn something new rather than a person who clings to old ideas for the sake of "stability."  I'd rather be the teacher, anytime, anywhere, who realizes she was doing it wrong. There have been lessons I've loved that I've put in the back of the closet because fresh pedagogy renders them weak. In fact, transitioning back to in-person from distance learning has made me realize there are a lot of things that need to go. All educators (and the whole institution) had epiphanies during that time, ranging from the achievement gap and equity, to building student relationships, to changing a test question, and it would be a shame if we left those lessons behind. I, sadly, learned a lot about how and why students cheat, which breaks my heart, but now I've considered ways to make my assessments more personal. I've learned students don't define "education" the same way I do.

What I arrive at, with Shaw, and subsequently with The Oatmeal, is learning is hard because learning is changing. I don't care for change much--I eat the same thing for lunch every day (a breakfast sandwich, a yogurt, and an apple, if you want to follow the English teacher diet--it offers nothing beyond not having to think about it in the morning); I have a tattoo of the delta sign to remind myself change is the only constant and often get mad at the tattoo for being correct. A tattoo on my other arm is the Wallace Stevens[3] quote: "it was snowing / and it was going to snow," from "Thirteen Ways of Looking at Blackbird." (It follows the line "it was evening all afternoon.")  It is snowing forever, and in the process of the first forever another forever happens. You have learned something, you have lost something. You have shoveled, and there is more snow. The present and the future happen simultaneously. We are our best and we will be our best. This is what it means to be a lifelong learner, and this is what it means to lose.

​I went to work learning about the Tiered Fidelity Inventory that the Minnesota Department of Education recommends. I learned how to give this inventory to other school districts and how to help these districts create an action plan from their data.
 
As I worked through this inventory in a few different systems, I started to appreciate how the data from this inventory was bringing each district’s story of collaboration alive. We were not just analyzing student growth, but discussing what processes and structures supported a productive team. The inventory used such depth and clarity, people who used to shrug their shoulders and say, “We do that,” started to question their system, their teams, and their data in new ways. They started to look at the patterns of their system to find specific ways to shift their system for the better. Finally, I was seeing data for the possibilities that it holds.

Many of you may already see it, but for those of you who don’t. Keep searching. You just have found the right data, reflection process, or personal connection to the data yet.

Here are a couple of things that I have learned about data once my fear decreased and my curiosity increased.

• I found that we all have gaps. We think we have systems that are functioning the best they can, but there are always areas in which to improve. You can either be overwhelmed by this idea, or you can embrace this as a challenge. Enjoy the quest for constant improvement and you will find more enjoyment in your work.​

• I saw data intertwining the story of systems and relationships. Data could be the difference between success and failure depending how the team used it. Successful teams looked for data everywhere. They didn’t really see a professional discussion as worthy without evidence to back up the conversation. Struggling teams avoided data because it brought out blame, fear, and guilt. They talked in absolutes and discussed barriers without a clear action plan to overcome them. Now, I understand the need for the relationships to build trust, curiosity, and a growth mindset to allow the teams to move from struggling to successful.
• Data is only meaningful when it allows the participant enough autonomy to learn from mistakes. Educators, students, and leaders need to ask questions, research, implement, reflect, and connect in their work so they understand the process of using data and build their skills to analyze the graphs, statistics, and trends. All this while also building stronger relationships with their teams where they are willing to dig deep into improved best practices and shifts with a common agreement around their why.

I am not in a place to call myself a data geek quite yet. But I am ready to share how I think you could find more meaning in the data you use. Here are three directions to explore:

​Lean In
​Know your strengths and interests. Then, find data that tells you the story that relates to your strengths and interests. For instance, I am a big picture and systematic thinker. By looking at data that was drilling down into specifics, I was missing the view that serves me the best. I need data that gave me a view of where we needed to be as a system and what we needed to do and change to get to our desired point. 
​

Think Broadly
Data takes many forms. Many times, we feel like we only have one option, standardized assessment data, to guide our decisions. This is a great starting point, but we also need to be able to use other points of data to guide our decision making.

• RIOT/ICEL matrix is a tool that can help data to answer questions about student academic performance and behavior.
• Action planning cycles can help school systems to use data for continuous improvement.
• Equity-Centered Design Frameworks will guide new ideas to come to the forefront.

​ 

I hope this quick read has convinced you to look at data with a new perspective, a curious one. 

We thought it was a fun joke, but as with many jokes, the more we thought about it the more the suggestion became an inevitable future article.  With the launch of a new season of The Great British Bake Off (sometimes known as “The Great British Baking Show”), the time is now!

So, why is The Great British Bake Off great for educators? Here are three rounds of reasons!

​Low Stakes
What can we say?  High stakes relaxation doesn’t bring the heart rate down in quite the same way.
 
Repeatable at Home
Because Bake Off is something every single viewer can feasibly do on their own, it can build confidence to try out new skills in the realm of baking.  Further, there is research to suggest that hands-on projects can boost mood for days to come after a successful outcome.

Small Wins
Speaking of successful outcomes, if baking does become a home enterprise, we can gain quick and easy wins in the form of cupcakes, breads, and eclairs.  Once again, research shows that one of the very best ways to overcome burnout is through a series of quick, small wins.  This can even happen just by watching the show and seeing the person you are rooting for progressing on to the next stage.  Do keep in mind that students are also burned out right now, and finding quick wins for the classroom can be very useful for the culture of the class and the mental health of all involved. ​

Clarity and Progression of Goals
The Great British Bake Off breaks each show into three parts: the “Signature Challenge,” the “Technical Challenge,” and the “Showstopper Challenge.”  Each is clear in its expectations from long before the season begins.  Furthermore, they build upon one another.  The Signature Challenge can be practiced long in advance of the show.  Contestants know what all Signature Challenges will be as the show begins, and they speak about how they practiced at home to get comfortable with their particular approach.  The “Technical Challenge” is the “productive struggle” of the show.  A chance to push the contestants outside of their comfort zones and force them to make connections between skills they’ve learned previously.  The “Showstopper” is the final display - the representation of learning to the wider community.

Rapid Feedback
As each of these challenges takes place, contestants get feedback in a variety of ways.  During the signature challenge in particular, the judges will walk from contestant to contestant to give feedback about their planned projects.  As soon as each bake is completed, the judges instantly give feedback.  Study after study has shown that the most growth happens when feedback is done live or, at minimum, immediately after a skill has been practiced. ​

Choice & Community
Not only does each contestant get the structured choice of what they will bake each episode, they also have the opportunity on how to engage with their community of bakers.  In the COVID era of Bake Off, contestants are put into a baking bubble where they can only interact with each other.  This results in practice sessions being done with each other, advice being given, and bonds being quickly formed through this shared experience.

Consistent Change
​The Great British Bake Off has gone through judges, hosts, formats, and channels in its life on television. With each change, the audience is quick to point out that the show is doomed and life will never be the same.  However, with each change, there returns a cast of people that clearly care about the direction things will take.  There is an optimism that is infectious.  There are, again, small wins in seeing favorite elements of the show continue on.  In a world so full of change, it is great to see a show model how to successfully adapt.

So, thank you to whoever it was that jokingly suggested The Great British Bake Off for an article.  It was a lovely exercise, and we look forward to the next article suggestion!

The Soods share five ways to build trust in such a way that people will grow to “like you for how they feel about themselves in your presence.” And, not surprisingly, these five fall into line much like the points found on a traditional plotline.

Trust, in part, can be strengthened long before any collaboration occurs between you and your new partners or students, much like the exposition of a story. “Hearing about them before,” Gauri Sood says, helps one enter any new connection with a teacher or leader with a pre-established element of trust. Gauri, currently a senior at Mayo High School, notes that “the person…I would listen to most would be another senior in our class…obviously, we are at the stage where we know it’s good to listen to our teachers and adults—and we will—but at the same time…the person who will hit the hardest is one of my friends or someone from the same grade.”
 
Therefore, it’s beneficial to lean into those moments where “having a student be the lead” is possible—for that student in the lead could be the one laying the foundation for trust that can be established more quickly with future students or collaborations.

As collaboration begins, teachers and leaders want to be sure their students or staff are aligned in some way. Just as a story unfolds, aligning readers with shared events, with building trust “humor works very well,” Amit Sood says. “A lot of research shows that hearts that laugh together beat together.”
 
And he’s right. According to Mitra Kalita of Fortune, “The workplace” and schools “need laughter: laughter relieves stress and boredom, boosts engagement and well-being, and spurs not only creativity and collaboration but also analytic precision and productivity.” Kevin Daum of Inc. agrees, sharing that laughter brings positive energy into a space, creates memories, breaks tension, adds perspective, and builds a bonded community.
 
“If we can laugh together,” Amit Sood continues, “the message we are saying is I’m willing to play with you. It’s evolutionarily ingrained within us: people we can laugh with—we start trusting them. Humor and laughter is all about social connection.”

Connection, however, doesn’t come without conflict. In a story, just as in real-life, there comes a time when there is a character vs. character/society/etc. moments. It is in this conflict that the climax of the story occurs, and Amit Sood shares that in these high-tension moments one can continue to grow and maintain trust by always “assume[ing] positive intent.” (A.P.I. for short.)
 
Amit Sood grounds this idea in a story (of course) of a time when Gauri was in grade school and frustrated with the fact that she couldn’t find her purple hair clip. To get through this moment, he told himself, “she is not trying to make me mad or get late…her brain has only matured to a point where she can see the reward that she will get from wearing the purple hair clip.” It is this moment of A.P.I. that allowed him “to reframe and assume she was actually right in her own frame.”
 
“API—assume positive intent—has helped us a lot,” Amit Sood summarizes. “It’s effortless compassion.”

Before a story ends, one must embrace the humanity of the character(s). Before trust can be fully fortified, one must embrace the humanity of the leader, the teacher, or of the work. In a novel, this is often seen through how characters handle the outcome of the climax. In a leadership role, this is often established by leaders who are their authentic selves—who are vulnerable.
 
Gauri Sood shares that, “a teacher that, to an extent, portrays their own views and how they feel keeps things real within the classroom and it’s not this façade of ‘oh, yeah, I am not allowed to share how I feel about anything’ (which sometimes is the case for big topics)”—these are the teachers who grow trust the fastest with their students. “For things that you can provide your opinion on,” she continues, “students really do connect with that, even if they don’t agree completely. They feel like you’re opening up to them.”
 
It is within this openness that trust resides.

Amit Sood expands on this by noting that shared challenges bring people together as well. “When you say, ‘hey, when this happens, this is what I do,” there is a comradery that builds through that common experience—that shared struggle.” ​

“Lots of stories...” according to Amit Sood, is what builds trust. Through the plotline of trust, as laid out here, learning is brought to life.  
 
For the Third Eye Education podcasting team, trust was established quickly between the Soods and our podcast team. Story after story uninhibited us: made our Zoom call feel more like a fireside chat. And we learned through each tale.
 
For instance, Amit Sood shared with us how choice—making participation optional—has a direct impact on how well it is received. First, by sharing a story of a two research studies he did at Mayo Clinic: ‘thou shalt’ versus ‘you are invited.’ He notes that the first one— the ‘thou shalt,’ which was required— “increased people’s stress levels, even though we were providing stress management approaches, it didn’t work at all. It fell flat. They got angry that we were forcing them to participate.” While, a “very similar program was offered as an invitation a few years later…and this second study showed massive improvements in stress, resilience, and mindfulness.” Ending with the fact that, therefore, “giving students control—everyone loves control—that’s the key to succeed in any program.”
 
Amit Sood goes on to share the same idea in an allegorical way. “You offer a bunch of nutrients in the soil to the seed,” he says, “and the seed picks what it the right nutrient for itself.  You can’t force it. Apple seed will pick what is right for the apple seed—and the peach and pear will choose what is right for them.”
 
He simply could have noted that choice has power, or that people engage more with choice, but by wrapping this fact in a true story and an allegory, it’s more memorable. Easier to hold on to. A story we can take with us.
 
Amit Sood summarizes this idea best when he notes that, “the universe is not made of atoms, it’s made of stories.”

The theme of this story—of these five strategies for trust, interwoven—is perhaps captured best by the Soods themselves: “make them feel worthy [and] they will like you, they will listen to you.” And that’s the story most of us want to be a part of as we lead, as we teach.