Education Not as Art or Science but as Craft

I felt like posting a little ditty I wrote for my class this summer.  The prompt raised the question about how we cast our work as educators.  Many say education is a precise science while others contend it’s an act of art.  I like to think of it existing at a point in between those two items as a craft.  This mini-essay combines Blumberg’s assertion of education as craft with a passage from one of my favorite novel’s The Magicians by Lev Grossman.

Theorist Arthur Blumberg (1988) suggests that leadership in school administration is a craft rather than a science or form of art.  Attempting to place this kind of topology over the leadership map is somewhat tricky.  Art versus science, learned versus innate, and inherited versus adhered are only a number of paradoxical comparisons regarding leadership.  Instead, I prefer to view leadership as something at the central axis of all these notions: a craft.

One of my favorite novels comes from Time magazine literary critic Lev Grossman.  His 2009 novel The Magicians follows the story of Quentin Coldwater, a high school senior who is admitted to a college for the study of magic.  What Quentin learns over time is that magic is not wand-waving and made up Latin like J. K. Rowling and her boy-wizard creation would have us believe.  Magic is tangible.  It is precise.  Most of all, though, magic is difficult to master.

As Quentin and his classmates begin a five-year long and arduous years of study at Brakebills School for Magic, Dean Fogg reflects on the nature of magic itself.  Never one to wax philosophical, his commentary is all-the-more surprising for the students in his midst.

The study of magic is not a science, it is not an art, and it is not a religion. Magic is a craft. When we do magic, we do not wish and we do not pray. We rely upon our will and our knowledge and our skill to make a specific change to the world. This is not to say we understand magic, in the sense that physicists understand why subatomic particles do whatever it is they do. Or perhaps they don’t understand yet, I can never remember. In any case, we do not and cannot understand what magic is, or where it comes from, any more than a carpenter understands why a tree grows. He doesn’t have to. He works with what he has. With the caveat that it is much more difficult and much more dangerous and much more interesting to be a magician than it is to be a carpenter.  (Grossman, 2009, p. 48)

Education, by a similar nature, is often hard to frame as a practice and even more difficult to master.  Elements of science, art, and (even) religion each come into play at various points in the development and practice of professional educators.  Blumberg’s argument that education should be viewed as a craft presents an opportunity to view these two texts in a connected discussion.  Doing so allows one to discover “new and useful ways of knowing about organizational behavior in education” (Owens & Valesky, 2010, pg. 117).

Developing “A Nose for Things” – Just as Dean Fogg underscores will and knowledge are primary to affect magical change, there must be a foundational knowledge that underscores any theory of practice.  (Hence the use of the word theory.)  The students at Brakebills begin their study learning the precise gestures, languages, and phrases that underpin magic.  Near the end of their education, there are sent off on a semester-long exile in order to fully internalize those processes.  It’s more than being able to read a chart or translate a passage that’s necessary to become a great magician.  Educator craftsmen must internalize their building, staff, and students.  I’ve often heard administrators joke about being able to tell what kind of day it was going to be from their first three minutes in the office.  While partially in jest, there is something to be said for being able to sense the climate of a school, to ferret out important information for casual conversations, and make sure that important decisions pass the “smell test.”  In day-to-day practice, there is not a textbook at a school leader’s side.

Material Intimacy – Understanding the materials with which an educator works is about as hard as a magician understanding the underlying fabric of the cosmos that they manipulate.  Carpenters have wood that is shaped by hammers and saws.  Potters have clay molded with hands and chisels.  Glassblowers work with heat, air, and pipes.  Though we equate the tools of education with chalkboards/smartboards, pencils, paper, and textbooks.  None of those items are the raw materials that produce outcomes.  Unlike the carpenter who lacks a degree in botany, educators are intimately familiar with their students—the raw materials of the craft.  The combination of psychology, communication, sociology, and other disciplines that frame the larger educational experience provide insight into how an educator molds a student.

Constitution of Acceptable Results – As a child, I remember viewing a glassblowing demonstration at an amusement park.  The man pulled the raw material from the fire, twisted it with tools, and blew life and shape into the product with his own breath.  To a six-year-old, that was magic.  He finished the demonstration, gave a slight bow, and tossed the finished work back into the fire.  I remember a woman gasping slightly when he did this.  She asked, “It was beautiful!  Why did you throw it back?  I would have gladly bought it myself had you given me the chance.”  He smiled and simply replied, “It may have been good enough for you, but it wasn’t good enough for me.”  As educators, our days and decisions are filled with compromise.  That is sometimes a tangible—though regrettable—mark that we make.  Where I think we are better as educators, though, is that we clearly know that is only acceptable.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.  More importantly, we know that both we and our students can do better, just like the glassblower.

Intuition in Process, Decision, and Action – I combine Blumberg’s final three elements of educational craftsmanship intentionally because it’s hard to separate the three in practice.  The combination and swift succession in which these things happen are representative of the concept of flow. Flow is the mental state of operation in which a person in an activity is fully immersed in a feeling of energized focus, full involvement, and success in the process of the activity. Proposed by Mihály Csíkszentmihályi, the positive psychology concept has been widely referenced across a variety of fields.  According to Csíkszentmihályi, flow is completely focused motivation. It is a single-minded immersion and represents perhaps the ultimate in harnessing the emotions in the service of performing and learning.  I was reading an article today about tech start-up companies and how they are okay with making quick—sometimes even rash decisions.  The article argued it’s better to make a quick, accurate decision 60% of the time than a slow, deliberate decision 90% of the time.  What makes the 60% decision reasonable is that the combined elements equate to reasonable assumptions and grounds for action.  The educator, like the magician, works with what he has.

References

Blumberg, A. (1988). School administration as a craft: Foundations of practice. Boston, MA:  Allyn and Bacon.

Grossman, L. (2009). The magicians. New York, NY: Penguin.

Owens, R. G., & Valesky, T. C. (2011).  Organizational behavior in education: Leadership and  school reform.  Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson Education, Inc.