Discussion Workshops

for educators and collaborative teams

Background

A full-time teacher for almost forty years (1983-2022) and a co-founding leader (2000-2020) of the popular Exeter Humanities Institute, I am a committed believer in the discussion-based classroom. I also appreciate the idea that academic discussions demand valuable skills that can be transferred to workplaces and groups outside of the realm of education, adapted to and refined in any dialogue-driven environment.

Beyond my work as an English instructor (1995-2022) and Coordinator of Continuing Professional Development (coaching senior faculty through the evaluation process, 2008-13) at Phillips Exeter Academy, I have organized and facilitated workshops as both an independent contractor and member of the Exeter Humanities Institute at many schools (public and independent) across the US, Canada, and other countries. Experiential and hands-on, these sessions deploy thematically curated suites of “texts” (literature, primary sources, articles, images, video, etc.) to create context, i.e. “classes”. After participants share the experience of being students (offering their own insight, considering and processing alternative viewpoints, complicating their own understanding, etc.) they engage with the exercise of stepping back from the event to consider the challenges inherent in the art of discussion and its attendant nuances (preparation, listening, timing, group dynamics, citation, navigating the diverse perspectives and identities of classmates/co-workers, etc.)

No bells-and-whistles, no PowerPoint presentations, no “speakers” or “presenters”, no overwhelming bibliographic demands, no perusal of research tomes. These discussion-based teaching workshops derive their power from living it—emulating and recreating a classroom environment so that we can appreciate it from the inside and out, from the perspective of both teacher and student.

An essay, “The Classroom as Big Sur,” in Independent School Magazine— about my experience of shepherding veteran faculty through professional growth. Click HERE to read it.

The Pacific has robust metaphorical possibilities, for musicians *and* teachers…

**Clockwise from top left:** tools of the observer’s trade, world’s biggest invisible roundtable attempt, debriefing after “class” in Jackson, MS.

Program

Whether I am working with small or large groups, or visiting an individual teacher’s classes to offer observation and feedback, I depend on context—on having an experience (together) to which we can respond. What I do is not abstract. In my conversations with teachers, I tend to quote musicians, poets, painters and film directors more than educational researchers and philosophers (though I have a few soft spots). Communication on this immediate, shared, experiential level, I think, elevates the endeavor, makes it, possibly, more valuable and relevant than poring over presentations or theory. And this is because it is real, seemingly ephemeral, but enduring. The way to honor the workings of a discussion-based classroom with any professional pedagogical inquiry is to respect its quirks, its elusive and improvisational character. To stare it in the face while it’s happening. To participate.

After small group work, the culminating final session (Pacific Ridge School, Carlsbad, CA)

In recent years, the word “training” really seems to have reached the apex of its popularity, but it is also becoming a little too elastic as a descriptor for any iteration of on-site school professional development. “Training,” to me, has always suggested a meticulous, technical—and possibly repetitive—program for a group being introduced to certain skills. But, the term can also evoke the lock-step precision of military exercises. or, at its worst, a lion being subdued by a mustachioed tamer wielding a chair, decked in top hat and glossy boots. In today’s educational environment, when the word “training” appears on the horizon, it always seems to portend that an “expert” will be visiting your place of work and telling you what you should be doing and how it is done—in short: a speaker (who knows very little about you, your school, or what you do, and who, in most cases, fled the classroom a long time ago). When it comes to education I am not a “speaker”.

I’m a teacher. And I love this word, because, over the decades, it has come to mean facilitator, in my experience. This connotes a transferral of ownership, an understanding that it’s not my show (in either classroom or professional workplace, or, most importantly, the sessions I might offer your institution); any “control” that I exercise is intended to preserve students’/participants’ ownership of the “class.” My presence and involvement as a facilitator, above all, need to respect messiness, patience, thinking on the go, adjustment, listening, empathy, and, above all, mystery—all things that come into play when a particular group is working, muddling its way through the exhilarating and exhausting journey of developing insight together.

For a deeper dive into the origins of my dedication to the discussion-based classroom, click this image to read my essay, “The Cooperative Wave”, included in the anthology published by my former employer.

In a recent interview with musician and recording engineer, Rick Beato, the legendary jazz/blues guitarist Robben Ford (who played with Miles Davis in his final years) said, “Improvisation, for me, always has that element of communication going on, you know, as opposed to showing what you can do…” I am inspired by Ford’s take on “performance” because it is less egotistical, more collaborative and democratic. So, if I do visit your school or workplace, I promise not to “train” you, or stand at a screen summarizing the nuts and bolts of Guided Social Constructivism. No time will be spent riffing on Dewey, Socrates, Vygotsky, Linda Darling-Hammond, Deborah Meier, or (sigh) Edward Harkness. You can dig into their work snd legacies in all your free time. Neither will the program feature my own virtuosic displays, nor the revelation of secret formulae, nor all the answers, essential charts, rubrics, fixes, and short-lived “takeaways,” etc. It will be about communication; rather than “showing what we can do,” we’ll be unpacking what we just did.