As most parents and educators know, there is a growing body of scholarship that would indicate that many learning differences that have traditionally been categorized as a "disability" or "disorder" are actually more a function of a difference in learning or processing "style" or preference. Certainly, one clear example is outlined in Brock and Fernette Eide's  2011 book The Dyslexic Advantage: 

For dyslexic brains, excellent function typically means traits like the ability to see the gist or essence of things or to spot the larger context behind a given situation or idea; multidimensionality of perspective; the ability to see new, unusual, or distant connections; inferential reasoning and ambiguity detection; the ability to recombine things in novel ways and a general inventiveness and intentionality during tasks that others take for granted.

Our school is filled with bright and dedicated students whose brains are wired a bit differently. They work to forge new pathways to learn the basic skills that the school system imprints on the rest of us through more conventional methods. As a "lefty" living in a right-handed world, I have a small window of understanding for the much larger hurdle that they have to overcome. Unfortunately, as schools, families, and even employers we often focus on the "can't" part of the equation as in "they can't learn in the same way as most people" instead of recognizing and celebrating the "can" - "they can see and do things with ease that baffle their more linear peers".

This past week I had the privilege of joining seven of our Grade 5 students, their parents, and coaches to Knoxville, Tennessee for the Global Finals of Destination Imagination. Destination Imagination, the world's largest creative problem-solving programme for elementary and secondary students, is an educational programme in which student teams solve open-ended Challenges and present their solutions at regional, provincial or national tournaments. Teams are tested to think on their feet, work together and devise original solutions that satisfy the requirements of the Challenges. Students gain more than just basic knowledge and skills - they "learn to unleash their imaginations and take unique approaches to problem-solving".

In the lead up to the finals, our students excelled in their regional competition and placed second in British Columbia in their age group and challenge category. This qualified them to head to Knoxville where they joined almost 10,000 students from 12 countries, almost all US states, and six Canadian provinces (BC, Alberta, Manitoba, Ontario, Quebec and Nova Scotia). Now most of our students will never be star athletes or straight "A" students, and they probably won't be the ones whose provincial examination results will be published in the local paper. But many of our students have the potential to be the ones creatively solving the scientific and engineering problems of the future; or the ones designing the most intriguing structures; finding ways out of our environmental quagmire; or creating great works of performance or visual art. 

Our students are the outliers who will help society to make remarkably creative leaps into the future. But this will only happen as long as today's teachers and parents help to provide the opportunities for them to flex their creative muscle, to apply their considerable talents and to recognize the fact that being different is not necessarily a bad thing! 

So how did our kids do in Knoxville? Well, they didn't win, but they did wonderfully well. As parents and educators we could not have been more proud of their efforts. They were focused and energetic, creative and funny and, (unlike all of us adults), relaxed; as if being in Grade 5, and competing in a world championship, was just another day at the office! 

Our students learn differently, and that's what makes them so amazing!

The first time that people come to visit me in my office they invariably comment on the picture on the wall showing me walking along chatting with Prince Edward, the Earl of Wessex. (Just as I am sure that people comment on the same picture that is undoubtedly hanging in his office at Bagshot Park – “You mean you actually know Jim Christopher?”)

The occasion was a visit to my school in Bermuda where he was attending a Board Meeting for the Duke of Edinburgh Awards. There is no question but that, as a school, we put on our best face. We raked, polished, painted and planned. Parents scrubbed faces and bleached shirts. And the kids, well, they were nothing short of wonderful. Our elementary students were excited and energetic while patiently waiting (the motorcade was about 20 minutes late) and both respectful and gregarious when the Prince arrived and chatted with them. Our middle school students greeted our visitors with respect and enthusiasm, but they were open and chatty and keen to share in their love and pride for their school.

So, what of all the pomp and circumstance? Well, to be honest, there wasn’t much. The Earl of Wessex proved to be a charming, down to earth, very genuine individual who drove his schedule-obsessed “handlers” crazy because all he seemed to want to do was to spend time talking with our students. He joked with them, probed them about their courses, their interests, their athletic pursuits, and made them, and all of us, perfectly at ease as he worked his way systematically through the student “gauntlet” that had been laid out in front of him. Interestingly, our youngest children—the ones who had been anticipating the visit the most– were probably a tad disappointed. (“Where’s his crown?” “Where’s his horse?” and after he had gone upstairs, “Who was that man? When does the Prince get here?”). By contrast, our older students had exhibited the usual teenaged feigned indifference to the visit prior to his arrival. Once he was there however, they were the most engaged and charmed. Most of them realized that they were actually speaking with someone famous on the world stage, and that he was genuinely interested in what they had to say.

When I was growing up there was a common joke that in the twenty-first century there would be only five kings left in the world: Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts, Spades, and England’s! And, as a Canadian, I have always had a casual and slightly indifferent acceptance of the monarchy. The Queen represented a symbolic link to a thousand years of parliamentary tradition and, the best part was, her salary was paid by someone else! Edward’s grandfather (recently lionized in the outstanding film “The King’s Speech”) died when I was one year old. I grew up alongside Charles, Anne, Andrew and Edward (although they never once called me for a play-date) but they were always more like characters in a book than real people. However, that day in Bermuda, I thought, you know, it is kind of nice that there are some people in the world that are above politics, not visiting schools as a photo-op but rather out of a genuine interest in children. People who can take time to speak and listen to kids and give each one the attention they so richly deserve.

I promise that I am not a closet monarchist! But Edward’s interaction with my students on that day was a tangible definition of the concept of “prince”. 

Okay, I have to confess. I am a little blasé about speakers, and workshops, and keynotes. There comes a point when you think to yourself: "Whatever" or "I've given this same speech" or "People still actually think this way?" However, having said that, I have learned that within every presentation there is often a kernel of truth expressed in a way that you have never heard before. A spark that can ignite a whole range of ideas and spins-off.

It happened to me yesterday. Our Environment Club had arranged for Simon Jackson of the Spirit Bear Youth Coalition (and Jane Goodall Institute) to come and speak to our students about advocacy and following their dreams. Now, I knew about Simon Jackson from the movie, "Spirit Bear: The Simon Jackson Story" starring two of my favourite actors Graham Greene and Ed Begley Jr., but I didn't know much about the man himself. I say "man" because even though I had thought of him as a teenaged crusader, he is now in his thirties and is a full time advocate for the preservation of endangered species. 

As a speaker he was quite good, having mastered the "ah shucks" self-deprecating approach of many accomplished people. He claimed to be nothing special, just a nerdy kid growing up here on the North Shore who was nervous speaking in class but one who became energized by a cause. In this case, it was the preservation of the Spirit Bear, a white-furred genetic sub-species of the black bear who only survives globally in the Great Bear Rainforest of the BC Pacific coast.

Jackson founded the Spirit Bear Youth Coalition -- one of the world's first all youth-run organizations and the first involved in this issue -- with the hope of creating a new type of environmental advocacy group. Through the Youth Coalition, Jackson helped raise international awareness about the plight of the spirit bear -- helping make the issue the most supported conservation initiative in Canadian history and having it recognized by Time Magazine as one of the most critical environmental issues facing our planet. Over time the Youth Coalition became the world’s largest youth-led environmental movement with a global network of more than six million members in over 70 countries. And today, two-thirds of the spirit bear’s last intact habitat has been set aside for protection as part of what was the largest land protection measure in North American history, while one third remains threatened.

I kind of expected that this would be the thrust of his talk to our kids, namely the importance of preserving the fragile eco-systems of the rainforest with the spirit bear being the "poster child" for his campaign. In a day when we are constantly barraged by debates over the ecological impact of various pipelines (Kinder-Morgan; Keystone XL; and especially, Northern Gateway) it seem natural that we would hear the clarion call to arms to protect the environment.
Unexpectedly, that wasn't his message!

Instead, he spoke about the "Power of One" (reminiscent of the Bruce Courtenay novel set in South Africa in the 40s) in which he called on our students to get passionate about an issue and to get involved. Using himself as an example, he pointed out how an "average" kid could come up with new ideas and approaches and inspire others to do the same. He recounted that when he started, he had no idea of what he was going to do - he just had an overwhelming desire to do something.

His closing thought for our students was: "Passion is the engine of creativity". People have shared that sentiment before, I just don't recall ever having heard it expressed so simply and clearly. It was a great message for our kids, and me!

A number of years ago I chaperoned one of my now grown sons at a Bryan Adams concert. As the stadium got dark, thousands of fans lit lighters (people still carried them in those days) and held them up over their heads. 

I was reminded of that moment the other evening when I attended my Grade 1 son's music night. The kids who were in the audience twenty years ago were now the parents of the performers on-stage. This time however, instead of raising their lighters in tribute, the room was lit by a sea of raised cell-phones as they made digital recordings of "Teddy Bears' Picnic" and "Heigh-ho, heigh-ho". It was a snapshot of how much society has changed in such a short span of time. We are living in one of the most recorded societies that has ever existed. There isn't an event, or vista, or moment in time that isn't clicked and stored by someone's personal device. Current events, the next generation's history, are preserved in graphic detail by a global media that hungers for the next eye-catching spectacle or quotable sound bite. In all this recording, a lot is saved and preserved but I have to stop and wonder about what is being lost.

Yesterday was my Mom's 90th birthday (that's her on the right). Her Dad, my grandfather, fought in the trenches in World War I and occasionally shared snippets with us kids when I was growing up. There are brown-hued film clips and stills of those events, but the real essence that we are left with about those long ago events was in the story-telling, not in the graphic images, and I now regret that I didn't pry more out of my grandfather when I had the chance. A fact of which I was graphically reminded yesterday.

Like I said, it was my Mom's birthday. We had a lovely luncheon in her honour at my cousin's house which commands a beautiful view of the Strait of Georgia on one side and Horseshoe Bay on the other. Seated at the head of the table was my Uncle Dick, my Mom's "kid brother" (a spry  88 - seen in this 1944 photo) who riveted us to our seats with stories about his years flying a Lancaster bomber over Burma and Malaysia during World War II. He also presented my brother and I with copies of a personal journal of his memoirs about those days. Now, I am a historian and have taught and written books about World War II. I have read detailed accounts, watched a raft of films, and studied volumes of original documents. But in that hour around the lunch table I realized that I knew nothing about what it was really like.

Will that be what it is like for our own children? We capture millions of hours of footage digitally and store it somewhere. Will anyone ever look at it again? We post our day to day experiences on Facebook, I read accounts of the doings of my grandchildren and see their fleeting images as they get pushed farther down the page, replaced by someone telling me to stare at a picture and hit "like" if I see the Mona Lisa grinning out of a pile of cheese. I get bombarded with 140 character comments on the world which get buried under a hundred others within an hour. We are so busy recording and commenting that I am afraid that we have stopped really communicating. Schools and families are very much alike. We do a great job of recording and celebrating events, but we need to spend more time sharing stories. 

So here is my vow in honour of my Mom's birthday. I will talk to her more often about her memories, not of great world events, but of her own personal experiences. I will regale my own kids and grandchildren (not that I need that much encouragement!) with stories of my own about growing up in a world that is very different from theirs. I will comment less, and communicate more.