In the 100 days of May, time stretches like taffy with the weight of expectation before that starting pistol signaling summer freedom. When the calendar turns to June there is a collective sigh of relief from teachers and administrators that can be heard across every neighborhood. What is it like for children? Hollywood would have us believe that doors explode open and students are launched as if from a confetti canon with the accompanying screams of jubilation.
Are they all swept up in that triumphant swell of celebration?
Picture the quiet fourth-grader who started mentally crossing off calendar days back in April, white-knuckling through each math class, each teacher interaction, each morning announcement—just desperate to reach the finish line. Imagine the third-grader with dyslexia who has spent months watching classmates effortlessly decode words that, for her, remain stubborn puzzles on the page and will have to pull a chair up to that desk all summer long. And what of our classroom enthusiasts—those front-row sitters whose hands shoot up like fireworks before the question is fully formed? Do all children count down to summer break? Is there something to the promise of unstructured discovery that they need more of? What would they tell us?
We educators craft elaborate theories about what children need, want, and feel, but have we stopped to truly listen? What revelations might emerge if we gathered around in that final circle time and simply asked: “What does learning mean to you?” The answers might revolutionize not just how we end our school years, but how we design them from the start.
I asked Palmer, age nine, what she wished teachers knew about learning.
Liz: So when you learn, who’s doing the talking?
Palmer: Our teachers. And us, too.
Liz: That sounds a little problematic to me. If when you’re learning, the teachers are doing the talking, how do I know you’re learning? Do you ever sit in a classroom where a teacher is talking and you’re not learning anything?
Palmer: I don’t know. I’ve never thought about that. Usually, I learn, but… Wait, that’s a tough one. How do you know that you’re learning? A teacher is talking. Usually, you know by… If you pay attention enough and… Wait, wait. This is a tough one.
Hazel, a second grader, couldn’t agree more when I asked her who was talking, she explained…
Hazel: Mostly the teacher and some of my classmates because they do talk during lessons.
Liz: If your teachers are the ones talking, how do you know you’re learning?
Hazel: Well, because they’re explaining something, and that’s going to go into my long-term memory. This one’s a hard one. It’s a hard answer. If they’re talking and you’re learning, then I’d…
Liz: You know what? What? I bet it’s a hard one for your teachers, too.
Hazel: If the kids are talking, but you’re talking the most, then how are you learning?
“Teaching, properly conceived, is not a delivery system. You know, you’re not there just to pass on received information. Great teachers do that, but what great teachers also do is mentor, stimulate, provoke, engage. You see, in the end, education is about learning. If there’s no learning going on, there’s no education going on. And people can spend an awful lot of time discussing education without ever discussing learning. The whole point of education is to get people to learn.”
He tells the story of a philosopher who “used to talk about the difference between the task and achievement senses of verbs. You can be engaged in the activity of something, but not really be achieving it, like dieting.It’s a very good example. There he is. He’s dieting. Is he losing any weight? Not really.
Teaching is a word like that. You can say, “There’s Deborah, she’s in room 34, she’s teaching.” But if nobody’s learning anything, she may be engaged in the task of teaching but not actually fulfilling it.
The role of a teacher is to facilitate learning. That’s it.”
When Robinson concludes that “the role of a teacher is to facilitate learning. That’s it,” he’s not diminishing the teaching profession but rather elevating it. Facilitation involves creating conditions where learning can flourish—designing environments that spark curiosity, building relationships that foster trust, asking questions that promote deeper thinking, and adapting approaches based on learners’ needs…such as “Castle Rock,” a simulation of global politics inspired by the work of John Hunter. In my experience this was masterfully constructed by educators who placed the focus on experience and not lesson planning.
Liz: So let’s pivot to the positive, as I like to say. Of all the years you’ve been in school, can you name one or two activities where you’re like, Wow, I really learned something doing this?
Palmer: There is one where it’s in fourth grade. Okay. It’s Castle Rock.
Liz: Castle Rock is a history game that you play. What did you learn?
Palmer: In Castle Rock, Coach Joe usually gives us a quote of the week every time we play the game. And usually I learn from those quotes. I think one of the quotes was, Don’t fight first. Talk.
I couldn’t help myself. I had to fact check her accuracy. The actual quote from Sun Tzu was “He who wishes to fight must first count the cost.”
Palmer: I think those quotes go hand in hand with the game because it’s usually something that you have to think about while you’re doing it. It’s not like a random quote that you would find on the internet. It’s not like, “You should do this, you should do that.” It’s more of like, “Keep this in mind while you’re playing it.”
Preston: I was the arms dealer. I was excited because that was a job that I basically crossed my fingers, crossed everything on my body for.
Liz: Why did you want that one?
Preston: Well, I love the job. Making people… Well, not making people rage.
Liz: If it’s supposed to be about peace, why is there an arms dealer?
Preston: It’s a real simulation game. Just to make people not fall in for any rage or anything. That’s most likely my best guess. The only thing, the only real goal, well, is to, one, make sure no country is obliterated into nothing, and two, to have at least one cent higher than you had at the beginning.
Liz: So the threat of the weapons keeps people from raging. Is that what you mean?
Preston: Sort of. I mean, it’s there just in case… so no one falls into any rage. What if you just saw a nuke right there and your enemy was a country’s leader, and you’re really mad at that person. That’s what the arm dealer is just there for, temper rage, so people can’t buy nukes and kill each other, which is not supposed to happen.
Return to “He who wishes to fight must first count the cost.” It seems like a quote we could ask our global leaders to study in real time.
If you happen upon the students during this simulation, you will question if you have encountered a class or free time. Children are huddled in groups except when they send an emissary to negotiate with another party. There is more engagement with the activity than distraction from a teacher’s lesson. Honestly, I have had teachers describe it as chaos. I’ve only ever regarded it as the smartest social studies class ever. Thank you, John Hunter.
Robinson’s insight that “if there’s no learning going on, there’s no education going on” places learning—not teaching—at the center of education. This might seem obvious, but as he notes, many educational discussions focus extensively on teaching methodologies, classroom management, curriculum design, or assessment without adequately addressing how learning actually occurs. Learning is the core of education… and children are the heart of it.
But what of those hearts? How does the process of learning weigh on them? The process of learning includes humbling oneself to learning something new. So I wondered what learning has been like for children. While Palmer has a hard time pinpointing an example of learning in school, she can easily discuss it within her world of dance.
Palmer: If you don’t know how to do the trick, don’t do it. It’s not something that you just think about in dance. It’s also something that you can think about in school. If you don’t know how to do the trick, don’t do it, or it’s something that you don’t understand.
Liz: So in dance, how do you learn to do the trick? When you first learned to do an aerial, tell me how that happened.
Palmer: There was someone that was helping me. She was spotting me.
Liz: Did she actually touch and lift you at first?
Palmer: And then they usually start by saying, I’m going to do it lighter, and you’re going to help me through that. And then you would do it. And then the process gets easier and easier as you do it. And then finally, you get more comfortable doing it. And then they’re going to say, You don’t need my help right now. I’m going to back off… let you do it first. Usually, you would say, If you’re not actually comfortable with the trick, I would say, I would probably start by saying, Can we do one more before I want to do it by myself?
Liz: So you know how to self-advocate that way? And when you do it by yourself the first time, there’s a really good mat there. Are you afraid of failing?
Palmer: I despise failing because it makes me upset, but there’s a world full of opportunities that can happen.
Liz: You got to say more – What do you mean there’s a wealth of opportunities that can happen?
Palmer: Usually when I fail at something, I get upset about it, but then I’m like, I always have another shot of doing it.
Liz: I love that.
There is a pedagogy of “I do, we do, you do” that many teachers use. The teacher solves the equation, writes the sentence, or shows cause and effect first. Then the teacher and class collaborate – we do – before a student is asked to show what they know independently. While similar, it is not the same as being spotted for a trick in dance. No one begins a new trick by talking.
Liz: I have a question because you said when you learn to do the new stunt, you practice it over and over and over again until you can do it. But you told me in math, you don’t like being asked to do problems over and over and over again. Yeah. Wait.
Palmer: At school, instead of taking it slow, they’ll give you a math sheet, and it’s like, do this. And then there’s always seven math sheets after that. After the third or second math sheet, I get frustrated if I don’t know a problem. I usually go back to that problem, but then my mind starts to shut down after I do seven or eight problems on the second or third math sheet.
Palmer despises failure. She admits that. Is the frustration she experiences a precursor to failure or a necessary phase of learning? The frustration she articulates points to something else. Her zone of discomfort leads to her mind shutting down. The child who self-advocates in dance class does not transfer the skill to the classroom. She doesn’t ask, “Can we do one more before I do these myself?” She shuts down when she doesn’t know a problem.
Liz: How do you feel when you make a mistake?
Hazel: If it’s a small one, I’m like, Okay, I’ll just fix this. But if it’s the entire thing, I’m like, Come on. But if it’s in front of the class, which they are most likely already done with, I’m like, Great.
Liz: So you don’t like being not done when everybody else is done?
Hazel: Well, I just don’t like being not done, personally. Because they get to read, and I really like reading.
Hazel’s comments point to learning equaling being “done.” Checking off morning work as an item on a to-do list rather than practice to learn something new. Have we inadvertently put the emphasis on the wrong part of the educational process? Kids figure out the game of school pretty quickly.
When we hand out worksheets with neat little boxes to fill in, when we check assignments with a quick “complete” stamp, when the highest praise is “all done,” we’re teaching them something unintentional but powerful: learning equals completion.
So children adapt. They learn that education is a series of finite tasks with clear endpoints rather than an ongoing process of discovery. They internalize that being a “good student” means finishing things efficiently, not necessarily understanding them thoroughly. Their natural question shifts from “What does this mean?” to “Is this what you want?” and eventually to “Will this be on the test?”
And we wonder why, when summer finally arrives, they seem so eager to forget everything we taught them.
I am not sure we ever help students reflect and celebrate the joy of learning something new. I am also not sure we ever reflect on the possible suffering of not learning it. At 10, Parker can help us understand a different take on academic anxiety.
Liz: What does it feel like to learn something?
Parker: It feels really good and just leaves all the stress behind. I don’t know.
Liz: So is there stress before you learn it?
Parker: Yeah, because you’ve never seen the problem or things before, and then you actually just do it.
Liz: So the “doing it” takes the stress of that?
Parker: Yeah.
Liz: Oh, that’s really interesting. Okay, so let’s go back to the teacher talking. If the teacher is talking and you’re not doing anything, is that stressful?
Parker: Sometimes when they just talk for two hours and then we have to do a paper.
Liz: So while the teacher is talking, before they let you do whatever it is you’re learning, you can be stressed by it?
Parker: Yeah.
Liz: Oh, wow. I never thought about that.
Learning is supposed to be challenging – that’s how our brains grow. That productive tension we feel when tackling challenging material helps encode information more deeply and creates stronger neural pathways. Here’s the thing about learning: we’re SUPPOSED to get things wrong sometimes. When the success rate drops below 70%, though, that’s when productive challenge can turn into “why am I even trying?” territory unless provided the right guidance or scaffolding – like having a spotter for a new trick. The brain literally can’t process effectively when panic sets in. Research in educational psychology points to something called the “Zone of Proximal Development”—that sweet spot where material is just challenging enough to promote growth but not so difficult that it overwhelms learners who start experiencing anxiety that interferes with cognitive processing. It’s the gap between what a learner can do independently and what they can achieve with “a spotter” supporting them.
So how much stress is too much? The answer varies by individual, but when stress begins to trigger avoidance behaviors, or lead to naming the anxiety butterfly in your stomach because it’s been there so long – you’ve probably crossed the line.
Don’t get me wrong, failure is not fatal. I can’t even type those words without hearing Reno DiOrio’s voice echo them although they are truly attributed to Winston Churchill. And failure has its place in learning. Even at age 11 Preston can tell you that his favorite learning experience came with his greatest failure. What was that experience?
Preston: Lego Robotics. I was a team captain and a main programmer. My programs were perfect until the day of the competition where they all got bugged. So we got second to last place.
Liz: No. Talk to me about that. How did that feel?
Preston: Absolutely horrible. We were the best team by far. We were done with our (robot) building first. Our programs were perfect. Even the main teacher of the class said, ‘I don’t know what happened with this group. They were perfect.’ And then next thing you know, we ended up getting 45 as a high when the winner got 145.
Our emotions really didn’t show. We were fine, but really, that was probably the worst possible outcome to have from there.
Liz: And yet it was a favorite class? You didn’t let that outcome change that?
Preston: No.
Liz: How did you manage that?
Preston: Simple. Because all the great teamwork I had, and all the fun it was being the main programmer
I don’t know what happened at the end. Our programs looked the same, but they bugged our car. They wouldn’t do full turns or do anything. We probably crashed into seven buildings. Yeah, it was bad.
Liz: How heartbreaking. I love that day. I used to call Lego Robotics my favorite day on campus.
Preston: Yeah, it really was. It was the best day.
Failure is part of the equation of learning. When a child struggles through a math problem using three different approaches before finding one that works, she has learned more than the classmate who followed the formula correctly the first time. Her neural pathways are richer, her understanding more flexible. The gift comes when a child can recognize mistakes as information… when failure is a necessary part of the bigger picture… but our grading systems with our red pens rarely capture this. We measure the destination, not the journey.
Liz: How will you know at the end of the day if it’s been a successful day of learning?
Hazel: Well, the kids will probably be pretty happy, and I will look at all the papers that I still have. I look at them and be like, We got some success. Because if most of the kids had a good score, then I’d be like, Okay. Okay, that’s good.
Liz: That’s a good day. Yeah. Yeah.
Hazel: Because most of the kids are learning, which is a really good thing because you want the kids to learn as a teacher.
Liz: How many is most? If you have 20 kids in your class, how many is most? When you say, If most of them are learning, it’s a good day.
Hazel: It’d probably be like there’s 15 kids that… 15 kids that would have gotten some problems, which if they’re small problems, I mean, I’ll still count it as a pretty good score. Okay.
Liz: You really want it to be 20, don’t you?
Hazel: Yeah, I want it to be 20 kids that have learned everything because I have 20 kids in my class.
Liz: But that’s hard, huh?
Hazel: Yeah, because if they’re not listening.
Liz: Oh, right. Because like you said, learning isn’t just about teaching. It’s about the kid, too.
This particular walk has meandered through so many important tangents about learning. There is so much to learn from listening to children…so many seeds to plant as to ways we might engage with students. Before I turned off the mic, I had to know.
Liz: What makes one teacher stand out as somebody you learn from.
Preston: One thing that I believe I have, a good sense of humor. And yes, a good sense of humor would make a great teacher. Another thing, instead of just doing worksheets all the time, have creativity in what you’re teaching.
Liz: Clearly, coaches don’t make you do worksheets.
Preston: Clearly, they don’t.
Liz: I would hope not.
Preston: That would just be random.
Liz: What would a good coach be like?
Preston: A good coach would be not commanding and screaming at their players. Let’s see. Diversity in what they’re teaching. You don’t need to do… For example, in baseball, you don’t need to do the same batting practice every time. You could do fielding or something else. And also it doesn’t… Well, I mean, this is an obvious one, but… Don’t be a dictator. Don’t be a dictator. Yeah.
Liz: So do you feel like from the people that you consider the best teachers and coaches, were you able to have a voice?
Preston: Yes.
Liz: How so?
Preston: Well, instead of the coaches not letting you talk, you have to tell the coaches what’s wrong … what’s happening with you.
Parker: A good teacher, if someone’s doing something they’re not supposed to, just slightly walk over to them and tell them, “Can you please stop doing this?” Instead of just yelling at them to stop or embarrassing them in the middle of class. If they’re trying to answer a question and they get it wrong, just like, “Nope, you’re wrong.”
Liz: What does that feel like?
Parker: It feels really weird sometimes because you never knew it was coming or you never knew she or he was going to yell at you like that.
Liz: I’m going to make an assumption here. I assume it would be pretty hard to do your best when you’re feeling like that.
Parker: Yeah.
And what would a good teacher make school look like?
Hazel: We’d start off with a little bit of unpacking and a little bit of free play time.
Liz: What do kids learn about life when you’re doing unpacking? What’s important about that?
Hazel: Staying organized. Knowing what is where.
Liz: Knowing what’s where. I like that. And then play. Why is it important to play early in the day?
Hazel: To get your brain started.
Play. Play to get your brain started. Isn’t that why they are so excited to burst through those doors on the last day of school…so they can have time for unstructured play? Years ago I asked, “Why can’t school be more like Creek Week camp in the summer?” From that question came Lego Robotics, Castle Rock, a Weather Balloon, Zoology and more creative ideas when teachers used their classrooms to incubate innovative ways to learn.
As I listened to 5th and 8th grade students talk about learning during graduation speeches, such were the classes they recounted. Those and of course the teachers who sacrificed personal time to provide the scaffolding to turn failure into learning in reading and in math.
If we really did gather a group of children or adolescents in a circle and asked about learning that sticks, the answers might not revolutionize a system that hasn’t changed much in a hundred years, but we might just design a lesson or adjust a reaction for the better… if we listen. Learning is the core of education… and children are the heart of it. Are we listening to them?
Liz: When I was leaving last year, you gave me two dolls.
Palmer: It’s because I actually admire you as a leader
Liz: But why the dolls?
Palmer: The dolls? I don’t know. Those dolls are very special.
Liz: They are. They sit on my desk. I look at them every day.
Palmer: Those dolls are a meaning of gratitude towards you and all you do.
Liz: When I look at those dolls, I think about the fact that I’m still walking with children, that in what I do, the child next to me is still the most important part. And I don’t know if you realize that. So when I look at them, I see you and me, and I’m grateful that you took the time to make them and give them to me and what that meant. But I also look at it as marching orders that I have to keep children in mind and what I can do to make things better for them. Yeah. That’s pretty big inspiration, just so you know.
Palmer: Just so you know, I stole those dolls from my mom’s classroom.
Not your typical researcher or consultant, Liz connects lived experience to transformative leadership. To uncomplicate leadership and education, every story matters and she is just getting started.
