'No one is average. Not you. Not your kids. Not your friends. It’s a mathematical fact with enormous consequences.’
Before we talk about students, we need to travel back in time.
Back in 1952, the US Air Force had an alarming problem.
It had the best pilots and the best planes anyone could dream of, yet, the results were terrible.
You see, it was a difficult time to be flying.
At its worst point, 17 pilots crashed in a single day.
At first, the higher ranks pinned the blame on the men in the cockpits, citing “pilot error” as the most common reason in crash reports. (Of course.)
Then, they blamed technology.
They even blamed the instructors.
After all inquiries ended with no answers, officials finally turned their attention to the design of the cockpit itself.
For a fighter pilot, the difference between failure and success is split seconds.
Therefore, the right fit between the pilot and the cockpit is a life or death issue.
Having the most sophisticated instruments is useless if pilots can’t reach them when they need them the most.
Back in 1926, when the army was designing its first-ever cockpit, engineers had measured the physical dimensions of hundreds of male pilots and used this data to standardize the dimensions of the cockpit.
For the next three decades, the size and shape of the seat, the distance to the pedals and stick, the height of the windshield, even the shape of the flight helmets were all built to conform to the average dimensions of a 1926 pilot.
Now military engineers began to wonder if the pilots had gotten bigger since 1926.
To get fresh data, the US Air Force authorized the largest study of pilots that had ever been undertaken.
Researchers approached the problem with obsessive dedication and measured more than 4,000 pilots on 140 dimensions of size.
Everyone believed this improved calculation of the average pilot would lead to a better-fitting cockpit and reduce the number of crashes.
Well aware of the bell-shaped Gaussian distribution graph, they expected the vast majority of pilots would sit within the average range on most dimensions.
After all, these pilots had already been pre-selected because they appeared to be average-sized.
If you design something fit for the average-sized person, it should fit almost everyone.
That made sense, right?
Well, Gilbert S. Daniels, a junior researcher came along, selected just 10 out of 140 dimensions and proved to the Air Force commanders how wrong and expensive this myth was.
How many pilots really were average?
The results were stunning.
ZERO.
Yes, it is not a typo.
You've read that correctly.
ZERO.
NADA.
Out of 4,063 pilots, not a single pilot fit within the average range on all 10 dimensions.
There was no such thing as an average pilot.
That was a profound discovery.
If you’ve designed a cockpit to fit the average pilot, you’ve actually designed it to fit no one.
Now, back to modern times.
I have been an educator for 20 years (OMG) I teach, I consult, I train and I know the system very well.
We blame the students.
We blame the teachers.
We blame the parents.
But how much of this is just bad design?
Our educational system is based around command, control and compliance.
It is better to fit in than stand out.
We sort students into three categories: below-average, average, and above-average.
Every day we measure them against the yardstick of averages and judge them according to how closely they come to it or how far they deviate from it.
But what is the meaning of average?
Who defined it?
And more importantly, when?
“Michelangelo is often quoted as having said that inside every block of stone or marble dwells a beautiful statue; one need only remove the excess material to reveal the work of art within. If we were to apply this visionary concept to education, it would be pointless to compare one child to another. Instead, all the energy would be focused on chipping away at the stone, getting rid of whatever is in the way of each child’s developing skills, mastery, and self-expression.” ― Rosamund Stone Zander, The Art of Possibility
Todd Rose shows us that everything we think we know about ‘average’ performance & standardized tests is wrong.
In fact, our one-dimensional understanding of achievement - our search for the average score, average grade, average talent - has seriously underestimated human potential.
How to fix the broken system?
Let's ban the average.
Let's design to the edges.
Let's nurture talent. (Learn how here)
When we teach to the average we are not really catering to anyone's needs.
Once we start to do schooling differently, we’ll start to get different results.
And then maybe, just maybe, the dreaded question “Will this be on the test?” will disappear.
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