Formulating: putting the rubber to the road

Last week, to introduce chapter seven (on strategic planning) to my management class I handed my notes over to the class and gave them directions to plan the next three weeks of class. They had to schedule one project and one exam. The project has to run five days straight, and they'll need the information from chapter seven to do the project. They had to make sure that they leave enough days to cover chapter five and prepare for the final, which is July 16.

Then I left the room.

It was a breath-holding heart-pounding moment, one where I wasn't sure if walking out was the right move. However, I'd done it before and -- truth be told -- I was stood right outside the door, shamelessly eavesdropping. Leaving was the only way I could teach this lesson in strategy and planning because, otherwise, my students would have centered the lesson on me. Is this what you want? Are we right? They would ask with their words and their eyes, watching me for nonverbal cues when I refuse to tell them what to do next. So, again, I stood at the door.

It was Monique who took the lead, standing at the whiteboard and trying to lead them. It wasn't easy, not with ten other students trying to decide on how they want the material presented and what sort of test they'd prefer.

I could hear them hashing it out, hear them unwittingly do exactly what chapter seven was about to teach them: look at their objectives and trying to figure out how to get there. I could hear contradictions and questions and ideas -- and a few "pay attention to me" remarks that were, for the most part, given little heed.

My students were taking ownership of their education, taking responsibility for their time and their behavior. When I walked in, I took the seat nearest the podium -- visually establishing my presence, yet sitting to imply that they were still in control.

When we had only ten minutes to go, I thanked Monique and took my "usual" place in the front of the room. Time to make meaning, I thought to myself.

"What worked? What didn't? What will you do the next time I put this sort of problem before you?" Et cetera, et cetera. A few debriefing questions for them to pull things full circle. They were more involved then ever, and -- by golly! -- they liked it. In terms of strategy, they had formulated a plan.

When I saw what they wanted, my jaw dropped. "You want me to lecture?"

Yep. That, they said, is how they learn best. Skip the bells and whistles, thank you, and treat us like adults.

In truth, I never saw it coming.