mindset

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.

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.

Why Equity and Excellence Must Walk Hand in Hand: Lessons from Finland and British Columbia

/ Dave Eberwein / 5 Comments

In education, we often look outward to learn inward. For years, Finland has been a guiding light — its public education system admired globally for its innovation, student success, and deep commitment to equity. Researchers, policymakers, and educators have studied it closely, hoping to understand how a small Nordic country became an educational superpower.

But Finland is no longer alone in this spotlight.

British Columbia has quietly — and confidently — joined the ranks of the world’s most respected education systems. Our province has consistently performed at the top of international assessments, and in 2019, the OECD chose BC to host its Future of Education and Skills 2030 meeting — the first time this global gathering was held in North America. That moment wasn’t just symbolic. It was a recognition of the work we’ve done together: educators, families, and communities building a system that values both excellence and equity.

Yes, we’ve learned from Finland. But, we’ve also forged our own path.

One of Finland’s most influential voices, Professor Pasi Sahlberg, has long championed the idea that public education must be both excellent and equitable. Currently a professor of Educational Leadership at the University of Melbourne in Australia, Sahlberg has worn many hats — teacher, researcher, policy advisor — and through it all, he’s remained steadfast in his belief that education is a public good. He reminds us that schools are not just places of learning; they are pillars of democracy, equity, and opportunity.

His message is clear: we don’t have to choose between high achievement and fair access. We can — and must — pursue both.

Here in Saanich, we see this every day:

  • In classrooms where students are encouraged to think critically and creatively.
  • In schools where staff work tirelessly to ensure every learner feels seen, supported, and challenged.
  • Where we recognize that Indigenous students are not achieving to the same level as their non-indigenous peers and, as such, continuing to focus on this inequity.
  • In families and communities that partner with us to nurture not just academic success, but well-being, belonging, and purpose.

The work is not easy. But it is essential.

As we look ahead, let’s continue to ask ourselves these questions:

  • Are we creating spaces where all students can thrive?
  • How do we continue to value our educators and support staff as the professionals they are?
  • Are we building a system that reflects the diversity, complexity, and potential of every learner?

Equity and excellence are not opposing forces. They are twin pillars of a strong public education system. And when we commit to both, we create something powerful — not just for our students, but for our entire community.