Edward Haertel, professor of education emeritus, reflects on “the roles all of us have played—and will continue to play—as students, as teachers, as researchers and as leaders.”
I am honored to be part of today’s commencement celebration. I’ve sat on this stage many times before, with my friends and colleagues of many years. I’ve taught many classes and given many talks to many audiences, but speaking to you here today feels different. This is a special occasion, and a special opportunity, for which I am grateful.
First off, to all of you graduates, thank you! Thank you for choosing a career in education. Thank you for your willingness to devote your time and talents to this amazing vocation, to make the remarkable, essential, transformative social institution of education your life’s work. Thanks also to all the family and friends here this afternoon, for supporting our graduates in countless ways. I’ll be speaking to the graduates, but I hope my comments resonate for you, as well.
Clearly, the most important criterion for a commencement address is that it be brief. This is of course a challenge for me, because like many professors, I believe that at least 90% of what I know is indispensable knowledge for everyone. It’s tempting to try and make the most of this last opportunity to explain coefficient alpha, or the logic of unintended consequences arising from measurement-driven educational reform. But, that stuff has all been written and published enough times over that you can find it if you need it. So, I plan instead to reflect for a few minutes this afternoon on the roles all of us have played—and will continue to play—as students, as teachers, as researchers, and as leaders. I will try to be brief, but I know you’re all highly accomplished learners, and so, if any of you finish listening before I’ve finished speaking, I ask that you please just sit quietly and wait for me to catch up.
Most of you who have finished your degrees are near the beginnings of your careers; some of you have been teachers, or researchers, or educational leaders already. All of you, all of us, have been students. From your own varied experiences and from what you have learned from your classmates and your teachers here at Stanford, you know something of all these different roles, all parts to be played in the education enterprise. You have spent your time here mostly in the role of students, and you are now at a point of transition to some other professional role. Most of you will be teachers, nurturing the minds and hearts of our children. Some of you will be educational leaders, building and supporting communities of teachers, reaching out to parents, or working in other ways to enable great schools to thrive. And some of you will be researchers, studying the processes of teaching and learning or the workings of school curricula, or schools as organizations, or the history and philosophy of education, or an astonishing range of other topics and questions, to draw lessons from the past and to help build better schools for today and for tomorrow.
Each of these four roles—Student, Teacher, Leader, Researcher—has both a specialized meaning and a more general meaning. The specialized sense of “Student” refers to someone enrolled in a school or college or university, attending classes, writing papers, or working toward a credential. The more general sense refers to anyone who is actively learning—reading, staying informed, mastering new knowledge and skills both to grow professionally and for the simple joy of learning. Likewise, the specialized sense of “Teacher” refers to someone in a formal teaching role, organizing lessons, teaching students and evaluating their progress. The more general sense refers to anyone sharing what they know with others, often one-on-one but not always. This informal teaching role might be enacted when we speak from our own experience, or perhaps when we suggest a new way to approach some problem, or point out where some answer might be found, or even, on occasion, when we just listen supportively, with patience and attention. The specialized sense of “Leader” refers to those with certain formal roles in organizations, but all of us, every day, have both opportunities to lead and opportunities to follow. Finally, those of us who are “Researchers” by vocation engage in disciplined inquiry with the aim of adding to the store of human knowledge. We develop theories and explanations of educational process and practice, and test them using rigorous methods, all with the ultimate aim of supporting learning and improving life in classrooms. But everyone, not just professional researchers, can engage in intellectual inquiry and active discovery—posing questions, trying out new ways of doing things, learning from mistakes and in all these ways creating new knowledge.
It’s easy to see that these four roles are interdependent and mutually supportive. The best teachers never stop being students themselves; the researcher who hopes to influence policy must also be a teacher, framing and communicating findings so that journalists or elected officials can grasp their import. Successful students are not just passive recipients of information but are themselves active investigators; and instructional approaches that employ peer teaching are remarkably effective in supporting the learning of tutors as well as tutees. The effective leader is at once a teacher, and a student, and a researcher. And so it goes.
So, as you move on from Stanford, I hope that you will pause from time to time to reflect on the ways you are continuing to engage in all four of these different kinds of roles.
I hope that those of you playing the role of teacher will show your own students that you are still a student, as well. Let’s say a graduate student comes into my office and mentions a recent paper by someone in my own field that I haven’t even heard of. The easy response is for me to nod sagely and make a mental note to look up the person and the paper when I get a chance. It may be best that I not interrupt the flow of the conversation at that very moment, of course, but I may be a better teacher if, before our conversation ends, I consciously expose my own ignorance and ask my student about the paper and about the author. This lets my student be my teacher. It lets me be an active learner. And it lets me convey, in this natural teaching moment, that a teacher secure in that role doesn’t always have to give an appearance of knowing all the answers.
I hope that those of you in leadership roles will always lead with respect and kindness, trusting that almost everyone is well intentioned and trying to do what they think best. Over the years, I’ve participated in hundreds of meetings, in Sacramento, in Washington DC, here at Stanford, and elsewhere, and I’ve chaired quite a few. I’ve seen over and over how things that seem like really obvious, good ideas from one perspective can turn out to be the exact opposite when viewed in some other light. I think it’s safe to say I’ve learned more from listening than from talking; I’ve learned more new things from people in other roles and organizations than from those within my own field; and my horizons have been broadened more by listening to people I initially disagreed with than to those who shared my original views.
And, I hope that those of you in leadership roles will convey your appreciation of all the people who support your work and that of your organizations—not only those who teach, but those who prepare lunches, or drive buses, or keep the computers running, or clean the floors, … or, who plan and carry off wonderful events like this one we’re enjoying right here, this afternoon. The GSE staff are really amazing folks. THANK YOU! Offering praise for a job well done, saying “Thank you” – These things are so simple. And, yet, they can help to draw us all closer together, bringing happiness to ourselves as well as those to whom we offer gratitude.
I hope and trust that those of you playing the role of researcher will respect the logic of inquiry within whatever methodological traditions you pursue. The questions we study are driven by our passions and beliefs, and that is as it should be. But as scholars, whether inside or outside of the academy, we have a special status, a special public trust, which demands that we follow our inquiries wherever they lead, and report our findings whatever they turn out to be, whether or not they align with our beliefs and expectations. The special credibility accorded to disciplined research, the legitimacy of rigorous intellectual inquiry, is a legacy we must all work together to preserve, always distinguishing the findings of disciplined scholarship from advocacy.
Let me be clear. I am not for a moment suggesting that researchers should not also be vigorous advocates for ideas and causes they believe in. We have a responsibility to speak out, as does everyone who is involved and concerned with creating a better society! But in so doing, we must resist the temptation to bolster our positions with assertions that “The research shows” this or that, unless a balanced, dispassionate evaluation of the range of credible and relevant research findings actually does support those assertions. Research can usefully inform our decisions, but only rarely can it determine a best course of action when a particular, local, contextualized choice must be made.
I hope that all of you will remember your time here at Stanford. As busy as you’ve been, as hard as you’ve worked during your time here, as many deadlines as you’ve faced, you have nonetheless had the privilege, here, of standing apart from the real, day-to-day action. In the University, we can step back. Now, the time has come to step in. We call today graduation—From the Latin gradus, one who has made the grade, received a degree, moved up a rank in the wide world. We call today “Commencement”—A new beginning. It might be tempting just to rush headlong into new roles, responsibilities, opportunities, challenges, satisfactions—and not look back. But there will still be value in stepping back from time to time, stepping out of those new roles, returning in your mind to this special place where you have had that privilege of standing apart. Looking back, months or years from now, perhaps you will find it helpful to reflect on this remarkable, essential, transformative social institution of education as if you were still in the audience, not yet on the stage. Perhaps you will be able to remember how the world looked, how it still looks, from this special vantage point you have enjoyed here in the University.
Finally, I hope that all of you will remember the importance of family and friends, of our natural rhythms of work and play, and the balance of professional and private life. Our students are astute observers. They learn not just from what we say, but from how they see us living our lives. If we let our own lives get too far out of balance, we not only become less effective professionals, but we also become less effective role models.
There are great challenges and great opportunities ahead, and you are all well prepared to meet them. Go forth, do good, have fun!
© Stanford University, Stanford, California 94305.
