Leadership

Choosing Sides in Education

/ Dave Eberwein / 5 Comments

One of the things I’ve noticed over my almost 40 years in public education is that we love a good debate.

If you’ve spent any time in schools, you’ve likely heard the back-and-forth conversations:

  • Knowledge versus competencies
  • Direct instruction versus inquiry
  • Technology versus books
  • Traditional practice versus innovation

Before long, people find themselves in camps, defending positions as though educational success depends on choosing the “right” side.

The problem? Most of the important questions in education aren’t ‘either-or’ questions. They’re ‘both-and’ questions.

Direct Teaching & Discovery Learning

I am reminded of this when I visit classrooms. In one room, a teacher may be explicitly teaching a concept, carefully modelling thinking and providing students with clear direction. At another time, those same students can be working collaboratively, asking questions, solving problems, and applying their learning in ways that were meaningful to them.

So which approach is better?

Neither … and both.

The real success isn’t found in the strategy. It’s found in the teacher’s ability to understand what those learners need at that moment.

As parents, we’ve all likely seen something similar at home. There are moments when our children need structure, routine, and clear expectations. There are other moments when they need freedom, exploration, and the opportunity to figure things out for themselves. Most of us intuitively know that effective parenting requires both. Yet in education, we sometimes act as though we need to choose one side or the other.

Why?

Perhaps because labels are easier than complexity.

It’s easier to advocate for a program, a methodology, or a philosophy than it is to wrestle with the reality that learners are wonderfully diverse. What works brilliantly for one child may not work for another. What transforms learning in one classroom may need significant adaptation in the classroom next door.

That’s the challenge and the beauty of education.

I’ve often written about the importance of asking why. When we become overly attached to a particular approach, we can lose sight of the reason we adopted it in the first place. The conversation shifts from “What are students learning?” to “Which method is best?” These are not the same questions.

Parents know that teaching children and allowing them to build their independent abilities are both critical for strong development

The schools I most admire are not defined by educational extremes. They are not constantly searching for the next silver bullet or defending every existing practice. Instead, they remain relentlessly focused on learners and being open to change.

They ask:

  • What do our students need at this time?
  • What evidence do we have that learning is occurring?
  • How might we adapt our approaches right now to better serve the learners in front of us?

Those questions create much richer conversations than debates about instructional camps.

The reality is that great teaching has always been both science and art. Research matters. Evidence matters. Effective practices matter — but, so do professional judgement, relationships, timing, and context. A strategy that is powerful in one setting may be ineffective in another. A teacher’s expertise lies not simply in knowing a collection of strategies, but in knowing when and why to use them.

That requires flexibility. It requires humility. And most importantly, it requires an openness to doing something differently.

When we do these things, many of education’s most polarizing debates begin to fade into the background.

The question is no longer whether we should choose direct instruction or inquiry, knowledge or competencies, technology or books.

The question becomes much simpler: “In this moment, what will best help this learner thrive?”

When we start there, we stop choosing sides. And we start finding solutions.

The Invisible Work of Education

/ Dave Eberwein / 1 Comment

As educators, we often find ourselves talking about the visible things:

  • Programs
  • Resources
  • Technology
  • Learning spaces

These are the aspects of schooling that people notice first. They are tangible. Easy to discuss. Easy to photograph. Easy to quantify.

Yet, the most important aspects of education are often invisible:

  • Trust
  • Belonging
  • Purpose
  • Hope

You will not find many of these things neatly organized in a budget document. They do not fit comfortably into spreadsheets, dashboards, purchase orders, or annual reports.

Belonging is at the Core of What We Do in Education

And yet they shape everything.

When I think about the three school districts I have been fortunate to be a part of over my career, the schools that stand out as leaders are never defined by their architecture, the technology and resources they adopted, or the initiatives they launched.

They are defined by how they made people feel. They are the places where students felt seen. Where staff felt valued. Where families felt welcomed. Where people knew they belonged.

In a recent blog post, I reflected on how public education has evolved over the past forty years. I wrote that education has moved beyond simply delivering content toward “a broader and more human-centered vision” that recognizes learning as deeply connected to identity, well-being, and belonging. That idea continues to resonate with me because it speaks to a fundamental truth — learning is a human endeavour before it is an academic one.

Consider any learning environment where students are thriving. What do you notice?

  • You may see engaging instruction.
  • You may observe innovative learning spaces.
  • You may notice purposeful use of technology.

But if you look a little deeper, you will often discover something even more significant.

You will find students who feel known, adults who care, and relationships that are regularly and consistently reinforced which builds trust and respect. You will find a culture where people feel safe enough to take risks, ask questions, make mistakes, and grow. People flourish when they feel connected and safe.

Everything else is secondary.

This is one of the reasons that meaningful educational change can be so challenging.

  • It is relatively easy to purchase resources. It is much harder to build a positive culture.
  • It is relatively easy to launch an initiative. It is much harder to sustain a shared sense of purpose and belonging.

And yet those deeper elements are where the real work lives.

As I reflected in my year-end blog this past June, one of the strongest themes emerging across our district was student belonging. Not because it was a stand-alone initiative, but because we increasingly understand that belonging is foundational to everything else we hope to achieve. Academic growth matters. Literacy matters. Numeracy matters. Career readiness matters. But all of these outcomes become more attainable when students feel connected, supported, and challenged.

Purpose and belonging are not nice additions to learning. They are the foundations for learning.

Throughout this blog, I often return to the idea of “why.” The reason is simple. When we become disconnected from our purpose, it becomes easy to focus exclusively on the mechanics of education rather than its deeper mission.

The question is never simply, “What are we doing?” The more important question is, “Why are we doing it?” The answer to that question shapes every decision that follows.

It influences how we design schools — how we allocate resources — how we support students — how we work together.

It influences whether our efforts become transformational or merely transactional.

When I wrote recently about Truth and Reconciliation, I reflected on the unique role that schools play in bringing together young people from diverse backgrounds, experiences, and perspectives. Schools remain one of the few places in our society where an entire generation learns alongside one another. That reality is powerful. It reminds us that education is not simply about preparing students for employment. It is about preparing them to participate meaningfully in communities and contribute to a better future for all of us.

In other words, it is about helping young people find both belonging and purpose.

As I look back on the many innovations that have moved through education over the years, I continue to arrive at the same conclusion. Most successful initiatives are not successful because of what they introduce. They are successful because of what they reinforce – connection, agency, curiosity and human potential.

Because in the end, the most important work in education has never been the visible work. It is the invisible work of helping people feel that they belong, that they matter, and that their lives have purpose.

And that work changes everything.

Every September Begins with Hope

/ Dave Eberwein / 6 Comments

Every September, students return to school.

They arrive with backpacks slung over their shoulders, some fresh supplies, and often a mixture of excitement, curiosity, and nervous energy. They reconnect with friends they haven’t seen all summer. They meet new teachers. They wonder what the year ahead might hold.

Of course, there are practical reasons why students return. School is mandatory. Their friends are there. There are new things to learn and new experiences to be had.

All of that is true.

But it runs deeper than that. Every school year begins with a quiet act of hope.

The doors open. Hallways fill. Shoes squeak across polished floors. Someone is finishing breakfast in the parking lot. Another student is already laughing with a friend before the bell rings. A teacher stands at the classroom door, greeting students one by one, communicating something far more important than the day’s lesson:

“I see you. You belong here.”

At its best, that simple message is one of the most powerful forces in public education.

And yet, across British Columbia, throughout Canada, and around the world, we are seeing growing concerns about student absenteeism. More students are missing school than in previous years, and educators, families, and researchers are paying close attention. While attendance data tells part of the story, it does not tell us everything.

Because attendance is rarely just about attendance.

Sometimes an empty desk represents illness — sometimes anxiety — sometimes a student who feels overwhelmed and has fallen behind — sometimes it is a young person carrying challenges that remain unseen by those around them.

The reality is that absenteeism is often complex, layered, and deeply connected to issues of well-being, engagement, and belonging.

That is why I believe we need to ask a different question.

Not simply: “How do we get students to come to school?”

But rather: “What makes school a place they want to return to?”

The answer begins with belonging.

Belonging is not a slogan displayed on a wall or a statement inside a strategic plan. It is built through hundreds of small moments every day:

  • It is the teacher who notices when a student seems quieter than usual.
  • The educational assistant who helps a child regain a sense of calm before frustration turns into crisis.
  • The principal who knows students by name.
  • The classmate who saves a seat at lunch.
  • The counsellor, Elder, or other adult who reminds a young person that who they are matters.

These moments may seem small in isolation, but collectively they create something powerful. They create connection.

I have written before that before we teach content, we teach belonging.

The research continues to affirm what educators have long understood through experience. Students who feel connected to their schools are more engaged in learning, more resilient when facing challenges, and more likely to thrive academically, socially, and emotionally.

There is an important leadership lesson in this as well.

When school systems face increasing pressures, from staffing shortages and growing student needs to rapidly changing expectations, it is easy to focus primarily on technical solutions — better tracking systems; improved intervention protocols; stronger monitoring of attendance patterns.

These things matter. But they are not enough on their own.

Students return to places where they feel known. That truth sits at the heart of public education’s purpose.

Schools do not exist simply to deliver curriculum. They exist to help young people discover who they are and who they might become. They create spaces where students grow intellectually, socially, emotionally, and ethically.

When students are frequently absent, that work becomes more challenging. But it also becomes more important.

Chronic absenteeism is not simply a data problem to solve. It is a signal inviting us to pay closer attention.

  • Who is struggling?
  • Who is quietly drifting to the margins?
  • Who feels disconnected?
  • And what might we do differently to help them reconnect?

Of course, schools cannot solve every challenge confronting young people and families today. The pressures facing communities are real, and many extend far beyond the schoolhouse doors.

But schools can still serve as one of the most powerful protective forces in a young person’s life. When life feels uncertain, school can provide stability. When the world feels disconnected, school can create community. When young people begin to doubt themselves, school can remind them that they matter.

So as another school year begins, perhaps the most important question is not: “Who is here today?”

Perhaps the better question is: “What happened here recently that would make a student want to return tomorrow?”

  • Did they feel successful?
  • Did they feel seen?
  • Did they laugh?
  • Did someone make room for their voice?

Those are not soft questions — they are foundational ones.

Because every classroom begins long before the bell rings. It begins with connection. It begins with relationships. It begins with the daily commitment to create schools where students do not simply attend but truly belong.

And when students belong, they come back.