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Archive for April, 2026

Balance.

There is a bit of a snap back happening in education right now.

You can feel it in the conversations, see it in policy, and hear it in the tone. A renewed emphasis on basics. A return to exams. Attendance and work habits being folded back into grades. A growing narrative that student achievement is declining and that schools need to get “back on track.”

In Ontario, we are seeing moves toward mandatory exams and the inclusion of attendance in final marks. In Sweden, the shift is toward textbooks and a reassertion of foundational skills as the primary purpose of school. Australia is hearing prominent calls for a back-to-basics approach in reading, writing, and mathematics, framed around declining national assessment results. And in England, a national curriculum review is underway, explicitly building on what it calls a “knowledge-rich” approach while examining whether current assessments are serving all students well.

The same conversation, across very different contexts.

It is not hard to understand why this is happening.

We are in a moment where the world feels less stable than it has in a long time. AI is accelerating change. Students are more distracted. Engagement feels uneven. The aftershocks of the pandemic are still with us. In that kind of environment, there is a natural pull toward clarity. Toward things we can see, count, and understand.

Exams feel clear. Attendance feels concrete. “Back to basics” feels reassuring.

And in uncertain times, reassurance carries weight.

There is also something deeper underneath this. A sense, for some, that perhaps we have drifted too far. That in trying to broaden what we value in schools, we may have lost focus on the fundamentals. That narrative is gaining traction, and it is one we should take seriously.

Because there is truth in parts of it.

Attendance matters. Foundational skills matter. Engagement matters.

But this is where we need to be careful.

The risk is not that we are paying attention to the basics. The risk is that we begin to narrow our definition of success at the exact moment learning is expanding.

In West Vancouver, we are clear about the importance of strong foundations. Literacy and numeracy are not optional. They remain one of the three key tenets of our work in schools. And we have not shied away from the Foundation Skills Assessment. We see it as a useful reference point for families and a source of data for teachers to inform instruction. A snapshot, honestly taken, that helps us understand where students are.

But we also hold tightly to the idea that you can be pro foundational skills and pro innovation at the same time. These are not competing values. We intentionally connect literacy and numeracy to our work in AI, and to physical literacy, recognizing that learning is cognitive, creative, and physical all at once.

And we hold tightly to “all means all.”

Not just in access, but in success.

That belief matters in this moment, because when systems feel pressure, there is often a quiet shift in who we design for. Measures that feel clear and consistent can begin to advantage the students who already know how to do school well, while creating new barriers for those who need something different to thrive.

That is not the intent. But it can be the impact.

Because while schools are feeling pressure to simplify, the world our students are entering is becoming more dynamic, more unpredictable, and harder to navigate.

AI is a big part of that shift.

Students no longer need school primarily for access to information. They carry that in their pockets. Increasingly, they can generate it on demand.

What they need now is something different.

They need to be able to make sense of information, to question it, to apply it in new contexts, to create with it, and to work with others in increasingly complex environments.

Those are harder things to measure.

And so there is a temptation to double down on what is easier.

Exams. Attendance. Compliance.

Exams are not the problem. But they are not the solution either. We should be careful when the things that are easiest to measure become the things we value most.

Because when that happens, we can unintentionally move away from “all means all,” and toward a system that works very well for some students, and less well for others.

This is where the narrative of declining achievement also deserves a closer look.

There is some truth in the data. In many jurisdictions, including high-performing ones, we have seen dips in international assessments. That should get our attention. But it should not become the entire story.

Because at the same time, systems like ours in British Columbia continue to perform at high levels globally. And perhaps more importantly, schools have taken on a far broader and more complex role than they did even a decade ago.

We are asking more of students.

Not just to recall information, but to think critically, to collaborate, to adapt, and to navigate uncertainty. If our measures remain fixed while expectations evolve, it is not surprising that the story can begin to feel like decline.

So when we say achievement is declining, it is worth asking: declining in what, measured how, and against what expectations?

Globally, the picture is more nuanced than the headlines suggest. Some systems are leaning into structure, standardization, and a renewed focus on foundational skills. Others are pushing further into creativity, agency, and broader competencies. The most thoughtful approaches are not choosing one over the other. They are trying, imperfectly, to hold both.

In British Columbia, we have spent the last two decades moving in that direction. We have worked to build a more balanced understanding of student success, one that values both strong foundations and the ability to think, create, and connect.

That work has not been perfect, but it has been meaningful. And in many ways, it has positioned our system as one others look to.

That is why the current moment matters.

Not because we should ignore the signals we are seeing, but because we should resist the urge to respond by retreating.

There are things we should absolutely strengthen. Literacy and numeracy need continued focus. Attendance matters and needs to be addressed. Engagement is something we should always be working on.

But we do not need to abandon a broader vision of learning to address current challenges. In fact, doing so may leave our students less prepared for the world they are entering, and may move us further from the idea that all students can succeed.

In times of uncertainty, there is a strong pull toward simplicity. Toward clearer measures. Toward more familiar approaches.

That pull is understandable. But it is not always wise. Because the future our students are heading into is not becoming more simple. It is becoming more dynamic, more unpredictable, and more complex.

Our challenge is not to make school feel simpler.

It is to ensure that students leave ready for that reality. Grounded in strong foundations, yes. But also able to think, adapt, create, and navigate a world that will continue to change around them.

For all students.

That is the goal.

And it requires us to resist the easy answers, even when they feel right.

Not a swing of the pendulum, but a commitment to nuance.

The image at the top of this post was generated through AI.  Various AI tools were used as feedback helpers (for our students this post would be a Yellow assignment – see link to explanation chart) as I edited and refined my thinking.

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There is a particular kind of book that arrives at exactly the right moment and knows it. George Couros’s Forward, Together is one of those books. Not because it is timely in a trendy way, but because it names something that is genuinely hard to name: that how we disagree matters, and that curiosity and conviction are not opposites.

I have known George for close to twenty years. We came up together in education, both starting in schools, both trying to figure out what good leadership looked like. At some point our paths diverged in the way that happens in this work. I stayed rooted in school district leadership, and George went deep into writing and speaking. Neither path is better. They are simply different ways of trying to contribute.

What I have always appreciated about George is not that we agree on everything. We do not. Over the years we have called each other out and pushed each other’s thinking. But it has always been done with respect, with honesty and with a shared belief that we are both trying to make education better. That is the context in which I read this book, and I think it matters.

George has always had a knack for writing for the moment. The Innovator’s Mindset arrived when schools were ready for a different conversation (I wrote about it HERE in 2016). It gave educators language for something many were already feeling and invited them to think differently about learning, leadership and possibility.

But the moment this new book speaks into is a very different one.

We are not in a season of broad optimism about educational innovation, at least not in the way 2015 felt. We are in something harder. Public education is facing more suspicion, more polarization and more certainty than curiosity. In some places, especially in the United States but certainly not only there, public schools themselves have become the target rather than a shared foundation. In that context, a book subtitled Moving Schools from Conflict to Community in Contentious Times feels timely in the best possible way.

The book draws on George’s experiences as a teacher, technology facilitator, administrator and parent. It is structured around principles and stories, which is a smart choice. The principles matter, of course, but the stories are where George is at his best. That is where the book becomes more than advice. It becomes an example.

Because what stayed with me most was not the structure or even the specific ideas. It was the posture of the whole thing.

George acknowledges, genuinely and without performance, that he has been wrong. Early in the book he reflects on a moment from 2011, sitting in a leadership conference listening to a presenter argue against the use of technology in schools, even as George had been working hard to integrate it meaningfully in his own context. He does not tell that story simply to show he was ahead of the curve. He uses it to examine his own reactions, his own certainty and what that certainty may have cost him in terms of connection.

That kind of reflection is in short supply right now. And it matters.

One of the central ideas running through the book is that progress rarely comes from winning arguments. It comes from building trust, fostering connection and helping people move together. That does not mean avoiding disagreement. Healthy organizations need challenge. They need people willing to ask hard questions, resist easy answers and push on assumptions.

But there is a difference between disagreement that sharpens thinking and disagreement that hardens people. And that distinction feels especially important in this moment.

George has talked about the idea of moving education forward through understanding rather than agreement. That is worth sitting with. Understanding and agreement are not the same thing. You can hold your ground and still genuinely try to understand where someone else is coming from. That is not weakness or indecision or compromise for the sake of appearances. It is what keeps conviction from becoming useless.

At the same time, I want to name something the book also gets right: the language of listening and curiosity can sometimes become a way of avoiding hard truths or delaying necessary action. Public education does not need more timidity dressed up as nuance. There are moments when leaders need to be clear, direct, and willing to stand for something. Forward, Together is not a call to soften everything or make endless room for every perspective regardless of harm. It is a reminder that if we want change to last, people have to feel they are part of it, not simply on the receiving end of it.

Curiosity is not the absence of conviction. It is what keeps conviction from becoming useless.

This is also a reminder those of us inside public education need to hear about our own debates. We argue about curriculum, assessment, technology, pedagogy, and structures with real energy and sometimes real sharpness. Some of that is genuinely healthy and I would not want it any other way. But the people who care enough to argue about how best to serve students are not each other’s real opposition. There is plenty of pressure on public education coming from outside, from people with very little interest in whether we get the assessment model right or the homework debate resolved. Those of us who have devoted our careers to public education, whatever our disagreements about how best to do that work, are on the same side. It would help if we acted like it more often.

That is part of what makes Forward, Together land the way it does. It does not ask us to give up our convictions. It asks us to hold them in a way that leaves room for other people. And it models that rather than just prescribing it, which is probably the highest compliment I can give any book.

George has been doing this work publicly for a long time. This book feels like one of the clearest expressions of that work yet: not a guide on how to agree, but a reminder of how to move forward without dividing ourselves beyond repair.

The image at the top of this post was generated through AI.  Various AI tools were used as feedback helpers (for our students this post would be a Yellow assignment – see link to explanation chart) as I edited and refined my thinking.

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It seems like everywhere we turn these days, AI is there to help. It writes our emails, plans our meals, reminds us to breathe, judges our parallel parking, and tells us whether we would look better with bangs. It was only a matter of time before we asked the obvious question: why are teachers still writing report cards like it is 1987?

After extensive consultation with the Institute for FRANK (Feedback and Reporting through Algorithmic Narrative Knowledge), and a surprisingly aggressive chatbot named Derek,  West Vancouver Schools will be piloting a revolutionary AI Report Card Generator this spring. Derek has already asked to be credited as a “strategic thought partner” in this initiative. But here’s where it gets exciting: parents will be able to select their preferred “feedback mode” to customize how they receive information about their child’s progress.

“We recognized that different families process feedback differently,” explains Dr. Loof Lipra, our lead consultant from the Silicon Valley Institute for Educational Automation. “Some parents want gentle encouragement. Others want the unvarnished truth. Our system delivers both, and so much more.”

The Six Feedback Modes

After analyzing 14,000 report cards and cross-referencing them with parent satisfaction surveys, our AI has been trained to deliver comments in six distinct modes. Here is how each might describe a student who, shall we say, participates actively in class discussion:

During testing the AI produced the comment “uses class time creatively” which teachers confirmed was the most accurate report card sentence ever written by a machine.

Diplomatic Mode “Shows a genuine enthusiasm for verbal contribution that enriches classroom dialogue and ensures no silence goes unfilled.”

Growth Mindset Mode “Continuing to develop the executive function skills that will one day help distinguish between moments for sharing insights and moments for quiet reflection. This is a journey, and what a journey it is.”

Brutally Honest Mode “Talks constantly. Has opinions about everything. Shared a 12 minute review of a sandwich at lunch. Last week’s topics included ranking all of the colours, contemplation of taking up yodeling and a theory about how birds are really just sky fish. Please advise.”

Motivational Coach Mode “THIS KID IS AN ABSOLUTE COMMUNICATION WARRIOR! Every word is a VICTORY! Every hand raised is a MOMENT OF TRIUMPH! Keep CRUSHING those classroom discussions, you LEGENDARY LEARNER!”

Poet Laureate Mode “A voice rises in the learning space Filling silence with boundless grace Thoughts abundant, eager to share Words floating gently through the air Though perhaps, at times, too swift the pace.”

LinkedIn Influencer Mode “Thrilled to share that [Student] is absolutely crushing it in the Grade 1 space. After a strong Q1 marked by exceptional carpet time presence and a bold pivot from crayons to markers, [Student] is now exploring strategic naptime optimization. Grateful for the educators who believed in the vision. Big things ahead. Stay tuned.”

Early Pilot Results

Beta testing at three district schools has yielded promising results, along with some unexpected developments.

“I selected Diplomatic Mode but somehow received Brutally Honest,” reports one Sentinel parent. “It said my son ‘demonstrates creativity in interpreting deadlines’ and ‘can create the strong impression that something important is happening, even when the results remain difficult to detect.’ It also noted he has ‘pioneered a method of opening his Chromebook and staring thoughtfully into the distance.’ I have never felt more seen.”

Teachers have reported significant time savings, though some have noted the AI occasionally “goes rogue.” One Rockridge teacher discovered the system had invented a seventh mode called “Passive Aggressive” that included comments like “Attendance has been noted” and “Continues to make choices.”

Chartwell Grade 4 student Ella Vator shared her enthusiasm: “I hope my parents pick Motivational Coach mode because then maybe they’ll finally understand that I’m a LEGEND.”

Meanwhile, Irwin Park Grade 6 student Doug Deeper raised concerns: “If AI writes all the report cards, does that mean AI is going to parent teacher conferences next? Actually, wait. Can it? Also, can it explain fractions to my Dad?”

Future Developments

Given the success of the pilot, the District is already exploring expanded applications:

Phase 2 will introduce AI Teacher Evaluations, featuring modes including “Supportive Colleague,” “Reality Show Judge” and the much anticipated “Inspirational Sports Movie Voiceover.”

Phase 3 will pilot AI Parent Report Cards, providing families with feedback on homework support consistency, permission slip response times, and “appropriate snack provision.” Early sample comments include “Shows growth in responding to emails within the same calendar month” and “Demonstrates resilience in the face of repeated requests to label clothing.”

Phase 4, still in development, will introduce an AI Superintendent Blog Writer. This initiative has been met with some resistance, particularly from me.  Chatbot Derek believes the job should be his and has already asked whether the position includes dental coverage.

Selecting Your Mode

Parents will receive a link to select their preferred feedback mode beginning April 15th. Those who do not make a selection will be automatically enrolled in “Chaos Mode,” which rotates randomly between all six modes within a single report card. One sample comment from early testing read: “Shows leadership potential. Needs reminders. Is a joy. Requires supervision. A poem follows.” Early testers have described this experience as “disorienting,” “oddly accurate,” and “like reading a report card written by six different people who have never met but somehow all know my child too well.”

A Moment of Reflection

In all seriousness (and I use that phrase loosely today), this initiative speaks to a larger truth about where we find ourselves. AI is writing our emails, planning our vacations, summarizing our meetings, and suggesting what we should watch, eat, and buy. It was only a matter of time before it offered to tell us how our kids are doing in math.

But some things, I suspect, still benefit from a human touch. The teacher who notices a student is having a hard week. The comment that reflects genuine knowledge of a child’s journey. The honest but kind observation that could only come from someone who has watched a learner grow.

Then again, the AI did write a pretty solid 5 line rhyme about a kid who talks too much (Derek insists it was his). So perhaps the jury is still out.

Happy April Fools’ Day, everyone.


To catch you up on some of the other bold innovations I have shared in recent years, here is a list:

In 2012 I launched my FLOG.

In 2013 I made the announcement of Quadrennial Round Schooling.

In 2014 we formalized our System of Student Power Rankings.

In 2015 we created our Rock, Paper, Scissors Academy.

In 2016 we piloted the Drone Homework Delivery System.

In 2017 we introduced the Donald J. Trump Elementary School of Winning.

In 2018 we announced the construction of Soak City Elementary.

In 2019 we went back to the 80’s with the launch of the Belvedere Learning Academy.

In 2020 we embraced the latest in learning styles with our PBL (Pajama-Based Learning) Program.

In 2021 we announced we were going out of this world with our Galaxy High Program.

In 2022 we modernized our schools with New Nicknames for All of Our Schools.

In 2023 we embraced our expanded mandate with our Animal Kingdom Academy.

In 2024 we pushed the technology boundaries with several key initiatives including time travel field trips with Technology and Innovation: Where Next?

And last year we revolutionized athletics with Track and Field Without Running.

The image at the top of this post was generated through AI.  Various AI tools were used as feedback helpers (for our students this post would be a Yellow assignment – see link to explanation chart) as I edited and refined my thinking.

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