There’s a certain kind of tiredness that comes from going to another EdTech conference. Before you walk in, you know how things are set up. A keynote speaker who talks like they do on TED. There were break-out sessions called “Learner-Centered Futures” and “Innovation Pathways.” Coffee that doesn’t taste like much. There was also a quote from a student tucked away in a slide deck. It was taken out of context and used to support a decision an adult had already made months before.
That’s why what happened at a gala for gifted education not long ago seemed so different. Honestly, it was almost shocking.
The room wasn’t particularly interesting. People from different levels of government and schools were eating appetizers at tables set up in rows before the program started. But when the first student spoke up, it wasn’t to introduce a teacher or accept an award; it was to give the speech itself. She wasn’t reading from a script that someone else wrote. She was working on an idea she had been thinking about for weeks. She was talking about how her time in an advanced humanities program had taught her more about being intellectually uncomfortable than about doing well in school. There was a certain kind of silence among the adults in the room when they heard something true.
It may not seem important at first, but that moment is more important than you might think, especially since it doesn’t happen very often at work. Researchers and teachers from all over the world come together through groups like the ICGS Global Forum to look into what works in education. This is very useful work. Breakout sessions, peer discussions, and Pecha Kucha presentations from fellows who have studied identity, belonging, and well-being in schools for years. The study is real. Planned goals are good. But the students are still mostly things that are being talked about and not people who are talking.
That was turned on its head at the gifted education gala, and not in a fake way. Before the real program began, the students weren’t given three minutes to say thank you. The evening was made up of things that people said and did. One student talked about how she felt challenged in class even though she was told her thinking was advanced. Another person asked if “gifted” programming had taught her to think that output is equivalent to worth, which was a criticism that was clearly taken to heart by several of the teachers in the room.
Teachers might not notice as much as their students do. Or maybe it’s just more uncomfortable to admit: students often have a better understanding of the system than the people who run it, since they have no reason to protect it. What that means is something that the EdTech conference circuit never takes into account. The groups talk about personalized learning and giving students power. The schedules are based on what teachers need. The students are picked out for comfort, if they show up at all.
Sometimes gifted education settings are different, and this gala was a great example of that. The students have often been taught to think critically about their own lives. In school, they’ve been asked tougher questions. So when they are given real space, they don’t just say thank you. They question people.
It’s not likely that a conference app or a speed-innovating roundtable will lead to that. It’s still not clear if the rest of the EdTech world will catch on or if student voice will just be something that is talked about in sessions instead of being shown. But at least one night, the students weren’t what was being talked about. They made it worth having.
