We spent some time yesterday talking through this idea — what makes a project “real” — and it was fascinating how well the students have internalized the language of project design. More importantly, and it will be the focus for this morning’s circle, is the question of what makes a project real for an individual and what makes it real for the rest of the world? This distinction is important because it’s the difference between a project as a school thing and a project as a world thing.

We’re going to take the following statements and sort them into two categories:

A project is real when:

the person knows the deliverables (LS)
a person truly cares about the work they do and the outcome is worth doing (CB)
you can see that the person or people put their dedication into it (KH)
you come across problems and have to fix them (MT)
others learn or build from your project (KM)
other people are able to see it and feel it (TC)
the project lives on, people are inspired by it because it’s memorable (IJ)
when it makes people want to do something like that on their own (EG)
if you puts as much effort into thinking of a project as you would building it (SH)
if you are doing something that matters, like a #blacklivesmatter project. Or something (AM)
if you’re fixing a real world problem (DD)
if you learn something new or get better at something (DD)
if you can explain why the project is real (birthday girl)
if you understand the purpose of the project (KS)
if it’s challenging. (AH)
if you are aware of the work process (HG)
it touches people, benefits people, makes them look at something differently, solves a problem, and connects with them (HG)
your ideas come to life (DW)
the person’s dream and passion are behind the project (MH)
all the components are done (AR)

Most of the way done with this one…need to sand everything down, stain the top, get a planter, and decide on a plant.

Final design issues: what kind of plant handles lots of moisture from the dripping water bottles while also not spraying the water everywhere? In other words, I’m not sure a fern (low-light, high-moisture) will work as the water will bounce off the leaves and go everywhere.

I will also have significant wood left over — the nailers and such — as well as three cracked pieces.

We’re always trying to find ways to make sure that students can tell the story of a project. This serves multiple purposes.

One, we want to make sure that they can see the full arc of a project, from beginning to end. As much as possible, we want them to see it as a story of completion, from having an idea to its final execution. Even if finishing proves to be difficult — obstacles get in the way, things take too long — the project is over.

Two, we want them to see what the productive detours were. As I did the activity below, I realized where things may have seemed to stall; some of those moments seemed paralyzing while others proved to be very helpful. One such moment made the final design come alive.

Three, we want them to move past the usual student stories — I didn’t use my time wisely, my group wasn’t good, I need to focus/do better — and onto deeper, more lasting concerns. How did you keep focused when the problem seemed insurmountable or when something unanticipated occurred? How did your group deliberate when faced with a decision without a clear answer?

Four, as you start to write the story, you realize how many steps you took, even if you didn’t write them all down at once. During the conversation, I asked students to write down what was missing from their drawing, and many realized exactly how much work we did and how many small steps go into a project.

Example one:

Example two:

(Handwriting is tough but I really like the fact that a project ends with “mystery.”)

Mine:

The Ikea furniture problem

One thing I’ve felt over the years doing projects with students is what I’ve been calling the “Ikea furniture problem.” I know the feeling all too well — the initial excitement of opening the box, of looking at the directions, of lining up the plastic bags from 1-4 — quickly fades as you put a piece on backwards, as you over-tighten a bolt, as a washer rolls under the pile of cardboard, as you realize that you’re on step ten of thirty-four.

This is normal. When Kima calls McNulty to complain about putting a crib together, there’s a reason he responds by asking what kind of scotch she’s using. (Definitely NSFW, start at 1:11)

This is project work. This is the frustration you’ll feel when you’re working your way through any process, whether it’s a short paper for a college class, a home renovation project, or recording a new song. If you’re not frustrated, there’s probably little at stake.

For students, though, there’s a different set of issues. It’s school, right? Whatever work you’ve done as a teacher to build the culture, there’s a still sense that it’s just school and when you get right down to it, who really cares. You may orient your projects outwards, you may have done as much as you can to ensure that it’s an authentic project, you may have slowly scaffolded the project so that, with work, the right work, they can do it well. Even with all that, you’re likely to run into difficulties as it just won’t matter. As a kid said to me yesterday, I can do it, I just don’t want to.

Two, this frustration is likely new to them. It’s thirty years ago but I remember the feeling of battling with calculus problems at night for my eleventh grade math class. Each problem would take 20-30 minutes and there was a sense of rage and impossibility behind it. Sometimes the problems would open up in the morning, other times not so much. I wish someone had talked through this frustration with me at the time said something like, “the sooner you develop strategies to deal with this situation, the better off you’ll be. “ For example, one thing I learned pretty quickly was that when people asked me what’s the matter, simply saying everything doesn’t work. Learning to say things like, “I’m uncomfortable because I don’t really know anyone and they all seem to know each other and they all know what to do” makes it that much easier. (To be clear, that’s not what I would have said, but it’s what I meant when I said things like “I hate all these people.”)

Not only is the frustration new to them, it’s also, given some of the school situations they’ve experienced, it’s unexpected. If you’ve spent your school years in rows, filling out worksheets and taking tests, receiving minimal feedback other than report cards that precede one’s promotion to the next grade, you’re unlikely to have an inner sense of how one overcomes the frustration any project will create. Instead, you’ll have an idea that when the day comes to an end, the work will be over, and the frustration can be avoided. (Some students have an inkling that something is wrong with this situation.) Crappy schools certainly produce crappy outcomes but knowing that there’s nothing at stake makes it even harder.

Getting to know this feeling, this lost at sea feeling, the “screw it, I’m quitting feeling”, is just another reason a full project based model offers something to education that’s missing too much of the time.