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As a young teacher, I always wrestle with the issue of choice in the classroom.

The
word alone generates a buzz among faculty conversation, as most progressive educators try to
create and defend a curriculum considered to be student centered or differentiated. However,
we often miss the more obvious mark. Regardless of project type or teacher intent, all students
are stripped of the fundamental choice when it comes to their own education. In most cases,
they have to go to school. Federal and state laws require it. Our society expects it. And once
through the front door, for the sake of efficiency and standards, the demands of a compulsory
education continue to press. Students are assigned to specific classes and teachers, with no
real choice in the matter. Beyond that, they are grouped with other students that they may share
no real connection with aside from age. Even in the most creative and constructivist classrooms,
how can a teacher ever expect to plan, design, and implement a project for 25 different minds,
personalities, and passions? We, as teachers, work tirelessly to accommodate our students, but
even then, we unfortunately lose a few in the process. However, maybe the problem isnt
teacher quality- maybe the problem is the structure of public schooling and our educational
model.

In his Choices for Children, Alfie Kohn describes this lack of real choice as a primary
reason for student burnout in public schools, claiming that too many students presumably just
go through the motions of learning, handing in uninspired work counting the minutes or days
until freedom (1) We do not need to travel very far to find these symptoms in schools. They
exist in every classroom in every school in every state. Teachers know this, and good teachers
can feel it. They can feel it in a students body language, voice, and overall energy. My classes
alone admittedly have provided enough troubling cases of student burnout. This common case
of apathy and restlessness derives from many students from their own learning, questioning the
point of their work. What is the point of this class? This subject? This assignment? Most schools
often address those questions by promoting the next rung of the institutional ladder- you,
frustrated and listless student, must do well here to make it to the next step, rung, grade. If you
can make it there, then surely you will go to the next stage that will then move you just a little
closer to that final, illustrious pie in the sky- success and happiness. Walk through most public
schools and whether it be college banners or inspirational posters, you will see some evidence
of this forward response. However, educators cannot exactly define what success or happiness
means to every student. Educators can always provide students the general answers outlining
the economic benefits of college or the social ideal of an educated public, but we can never
provide the specific answer or real world path for each student because they alone must find it
and walk it.

Now, before I get ahead of myself, I am not ready to advocate for the upheaval of the
traditions of our current education model. Many schools, including High Tech High, provide
inspiring and innovative strategies to implement more choice within the mandated system.
However, I often wonder if those choices are only consolations to the bigger reality. Alfie Kohn
refers to these efforts as of the engineering of consent, arguing that often educators offer
autonomy while really trying to insure compliance and order. Instead of providing our students
with real choices, instead teachers create options. That is not always the result of inadequate or
failing teachers, but instead an entrenched educational model that requires a certain line (no
matter the color or curve) to be walked.

The real question is then how do schools engineer those choices that authentically
challenge students to develop their own individual passion and craft? How do we not just push
them up the ladder, but provide the perspective to dictate where that ladder leads? Or better
yet, how do we provide the same choices that adults struggle with and celebrate every day?
Adults may have to walk a certain line, but ideally, they are able to determine the direction and
length of that line. An adult is in constant pursuit of their own financial means and professional
ends, choosing that line of work that best suits their interests and abilities. Students work in
schools, on the other hand, often have a mandated shelf life. A project may only last a week and
their class grades are a reflection of one year. In doing so, schools never present students the
option of continuous work or exploration. Even if students are lucky to find real passion in one
subject or practice, that subject is provided only so much time in the day before they are
shuffled off to the next period and eventually the next grade.

Imagine if the average adult career was a series of one year jobs requiring not only
different tasks and focuses, but also different working environments and contexts. Most
employers would dismiss such a resume as trivial and lacking true experience. However, that
is the schedule we impose on our students, requiring them to move along through different
classes and teachers demands year after year. Although most educators dutifully work to mold
life long learners from that model, that label seems empty when we look at the pace and
expectations of our school system. How could educators create environments that not only
provide students with choices, but allow those choices to be actively pursued in such limited
time? When I think about the implementation of choice, I do not think about one assignment or
one project or one interesting topic. Instead, I wonder how do we provide the opportunity to
create living and breathing work that, like most professional careers or passions, does not
theoretically have to end.

I have turned these thoughts over and over in my head, thinking not only if there was an
alternative, but if any alternative would provide youth with a deeper learning experience. When I
moved down to Chula Vista, I heard about the Crash after school program in the high school
and realized that maybe there I could find the right opportunity to experiment with creating more
authentic choices as Crash classes are completely optional. I wanted to create a program that
not only included structures for student choice and voice, but, with the right balance of effort and
passion, could serve as a foundation for student initiated growth and ownership. Ultimately, I
offered the students the chance to build their own radio station.

Ax Radio is now in its third month of operation. We meet every Friday from 3:30 to
5:30pm. There are 23 students signed up and on most Fridays, we get the majority of those
students to show up. After weeks of sharing music, looking at station/show models, and working
to create our stations identity and program, the students have recorded three shows. There are
three departments- production (creative/talent), engineering (technical), and the hype
department (marketing)- and each department consists of students from all grades. I have tried
(and failed- or am in the process of learning I should say) to make this project as student led as
possible, providing structures needed to encourage thought, but not overwhelm the students
and lose their input. The students created the departments, voted on a logo/name through a
week long online practice, crafted their own 15 minute shows (attached a copy of a show pitch
tuning protocol), and are handling all the audio equipment. Although I regrettably pull a kid to
the side frequently to put a correction or idea in their head, I try to let the students learn by doing
and more importantly, learn by failing. Our first show is the perfect (or imperfect) example of that
effort. Although we all saw the train wreck coming (poorly prepared content, subpar sound set
up, etc), we acknowledged it and moved forward. After the recording, I facilitated a debrief with
the students. I couldnt believe the level of thought and consciousness reflected in their critique.
We need to soundproof the room! We need a mixing board! We need better mics! There were
too many ah, ums, and likes! We need to better prepare our shows and rehearse beforehand!
(Obvious, but still!) All these ideas that I had been holding in and biting my tongue on, they were
articulating and most importantly, they were owning.

Considering the short amount of time we meet, I have been impressed with the students
work so far. Despite the all around awkwardness of their early recordings, the kids are
successfully creating an energy for the show and an organizational identity. There is just a
positive buzz and vibe that fills our conference room every Friday. It may never be bigger than
those two hours or it may never be heard more than a few HTHCV students, but this project is
providing the students a time and space to be creative outside of the demands of their normal
school day. Without any real traditional carrot to dangle (like grades or because we have tos),
the students are intrinsically motivated to show up and work. I am discovering how powerful
choice proves to be. I do not have to work so hard to squeeze out student buy in, because they
made the choice to walk through that door and sign up. They continue to make the choice to
come back and they make the choice of how much work they want to put in. And, if they choose
to not put in the needed thought and energy to put forward a strong product, they have to listen
to that failure in front of their peers. They can hear their lack of rehearsal. They can hear their
technical missteps. There is a product connected to their effort and they know that they, not the
teacher, are the ultimate driver of their success.

However, although the after-school format has provided this natural breeding ground for
student buy in, it has also been terribly frustrating. In the attempt to work outside of the normal
school schedule, I foolishly believed that I would escape some of the pressures embedded in
our schools. However, schools, especially model schools like HTHCV, are insanely busy places.
From minimum days to service projects to exhibitions to college visits, the majority of our
meetings have overlapped a more important school event. Although the students are all in when
they walk through the door, our work, although necessary for the sake our radio program, is
simply not a priority. Along with their school work and other extra-curriculars, the students
vocalize the time crunch and visually wear the stress that comes with doing too much. How can
I expect them to put in the creative work needed to prepare for a show, when our station is on
the bottom of their To-Do list after humanities essays and college applications? I initiated this
program partly to experiment with providing more creative choices for interested students to
explore. However, as much as I see the value and worth in the students voluntary commitment,
I am also worried that frankly there might not be enough time and space for these choices in our
school. When the demands of all things education fall so heavy on the shoulders of faculty and
students, I am skeptical about how much more students can take on, regardless of choice.


Honest struggle to provide choice.

After School- a good idea

Exploring the idea- how much more can we give them?- so much on their plates.


How can we open the dialogue to giving true choice.

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