September 5, 2023
Publication is scheduled for early October 2023. For updates on the publication of this book, click here. This is the first of two excerpts from Stephen’s new book.
Visit any classroom from ten years ago (and many still operating today), or watch any pseudo-inspirational educator as a hero film, and you’ll be confronted with the annoyingly persistent question: “Why do we have to learn this?” Also presented in the form of “When are we ever going to use this?”, the question has led many an otherwise fine teacher down the path of self-doubt and distraction.
“Because” the well-meaning teacher responds, “Because, you’ll need this in the future.”
“But when?” the student persists.
“When you get a career. This stuff is important. You’ll see. It just is. Now let’s turn to page 265 and complete the first ten problems.”
And with that seemingly simple response, the teacher just lost all credibility in the eyes of the students. This is the hard truth that we as educators all subconsciously know and yet often fail to recognize—our students are smarter than we give them credit for. Yes, even that one student you’re now thinking of, sitting in the corner, and scoffing at 80% of everything you say, even she is smarter than we give her credit for. And they know—they know what is of value and what is not. They know what will help them build a successful future and what will not. And they know when they are being duped.
Lest you immediately dismiss me and write me off as a contrarian who wants to undermine the very nature of traditional education and core classes, please understand my intention: student engagement. When I first started as a high school English teacher, I was tasked with teaching sophomore students, and more specifically, with teaching them to read and analyze archaic works of literature before writing eloquently on thematic issues from the texts. From George Eliot’s Silas Marner to Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex, these students were encouraged to read beyond the ancient words to find meaning through a deeper understanding of the human experience.
And it was valuable because I believed it was valuable. I worked, harder than I ever imagined possible at convincing sixteen-year-old adolescents that there was intent and purpose behind their assignments, that there was a Why that would help them establish a level of success and meaning in their lives. I was, in other words, prepared for the question, for the smirk, for the challenge, and I offered an oratorical response that shut off all opposition and positioned me as the quintessential sage on the stage who could wax eloquent for the full forty-eight minutes on themes of loss, hope, sorrow, and redemption.
But here’s my point—I faced contention. Yes, I was ready for it, yes, I steeled myself against it, but the contention was there nonetheless, and I accepted it as the cost of being an educator. I comforted myself with the knowledge that we all, collectively, face the same opposition day in and day out and it is our job to root it out of our students and awaken them to the sheer blessing an education steeped in traditional methods can provide.
And then, one day, everything changed.
Three years into my shift from the English classroom into the world of entrepreneurship education, a story which I will unfold and develop throughout this book, I came to a stark and sudden realization—engaged students no longer asked the question.
Please understand—it is not that they stopped questioning in general. In fact, they questioned and wondered and asked more than ever before. But what they didn’t do, and what struck me in such a profound manner, is they no longer asked, “Why are we learning this?” In other words, they already knew the answer. In other words, the Why was clear, tangible, and direct. And they knew, without my having to say, that the content was of value.
For the last ten years, we have worked to build a successful and world-class entrepreneurship program at Cincinnati Hills Christian Academy. The program currently has fifteen elective courses, a full-certificate track, and features six student-run businesses. We’ve woven aspects of balance and mindfulness into the curriculum and experiences to help students better equip themselves for lives of health and wellness. We send students into internships in the community and have developed a robust curriculum based on the entrepreneurial mindset. In building this program we discovered, quite by accident, a key to actively engaging this current generation of students. We discovered a methodology of education that works and that has ripple effects far beyond any specific business or elective course. We latched onto a core set of teaching practices that not only sets students up for future success regardless of the industry or ever-changing future technologies but also that they intuitively know is worthwhile and are grateful to receive.
It is worth noting that, despite using the word “entrepreneurship,” our program is focused less on creating young entrepreneurs and more on helping students think like entrepreneurs. Entrepreneurs are visionary problem solvers and hard-working integrators. Entrepreneurs think creatively and act resiliently. Entrepreneurs are growth-focused, gritty opportunity seekers who have redefined the definition of failure.
Consider the following story as an illustration:
Early in the fall of 2022, I was walking through our 4,000-square-foot greenhouse situated in the center of our campus and admiring the baby tomato plants that were just beginning to be trellised on our vertical growing system (this greenhouse, like many other spaces on our campus, is run and operated by the entrepreneurship program students). As I meandered down the rows, careful to avoid tangling the lines reaching the windowed ceilings, I heard a student call out my name.
“Mr. Carter!”
I looked up and saw the smiling face of John who just recently had taken on the role of greenhouse production manager.
“John,” I said, “good to see you, how was your summer?”
“Great,” he said. “And I wanted to thank you.”
“Thank me?” I asked. “What for?”
Typically, when students offered up a thank you it was a coerced response to my writing a recommendation letter or allowing a late assignment to be accepted for partial credit.
“For the class last semester. On entrepreneurship.”
The course John was referring to is our “Foundations of Entrepreneurship” course which instead of dealing with the ins and outs of running a business begins with a deep dive into habit formation and goal setting. It is essentially the class that introduces students to what we call the “entrepreneurial mindset.” Traditionally the course fills up and has a healthy waiting list.
“You enjoyed it?” I asked.
“Immensely,” he said, “but more importantly, I’ve been doing a lot of the things we talked about. Like with habits—I’ve been working on my habits and habit stacking and have really started seeing great improvements. I have a high return habit I do every day and I track my habits to form new ones. It’s that compound interest thing you talked about. It made me start an investment account so I can work on earning it. Oh, and I’ve got goals for the year. And they’re actually written down.”
“That’s awesome, John,” I said, “I’d love to hear those goals at some point.”
“Sure thing,” he said. “Thanks again!”
With that, John was off to check on the kale seedlings for our aeroponic grow towers while I was left to reflect. Here was a high school senior who, as a junior, had sat through a single semester class meant to introduce the entrepreneurial mindset—meant to help students begin to develop a growth mindset, grit, the ability to redefine failure, and a desire to be opportunity-seeking. And he got it: the content was having a dramatically positive effect on his life.
In the end, this is our goal as educators. We have accepted a calling. We are not merely doing “work” or even pursuing a “career,” but we are embracing something larger and more important. We are charged with effecting positive change in the lives of the students we come across. Somewhere along the line, many of us give in to the numerous frustrations brought about by traditional teaching methods. Assessments seem lackluster, students are disengaged, and parents have unrealistic demands. The calling starts to feel like work and work, in this sense, can be entirely draining.
This does not have to be the case.
Our calling can and will be a rewarding one and that fills us with energy, passion, and purpose. I have discovered this firsthand, over the last ten years, in helping countless students (and teachers and administrators and business owners) develop the entrepreneurial mindset. I have seen the radical transformation this shift in mindset impacts those who truly adopt it. And I am charged with sharing it with everyone I come into contact with. But don’t just take my word for it. The pages of this book detail experiences, stories, suggestions, and examples of how this ideological shift in education goes far beyond innovative programming and flash-in-the-pan projects. This is about changing not just what we teach but why we teach. If we are going to teach the entrepreneurial mindset, we must start by embodying it ourselves. And in many ways, that is the point of this story.
You may also be interested in reading more articles written by Stephen Carter for Intrepid Ed News.
