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Introduction

I wanted to start this research with a story. I wanted to provide an anecdote that captured my
frustrations with the education system and then present that aha moment that would spark a
new practice worth investigating here in this research. However, in trying to capture that
teaching moment, I forgot why I wanted to write and why I came to High Tech High in the first
place.

The truth is that my research and aspiring goals do not derive from my experience in the
classroom, but instead out of it. Three years ago, I left my first school and teaching to rebuild
houses in New Orleans, a budding dream that grew too wild to ignore.

Every week on my construction site, I received volunteers of all ages, backgrounds, and
abilities. Most Monday mornings started the same. As I waited on the stoop of a half built house,
the volunteers would circle around the block, always pointing through the glass with that
perplexed look asking, Is this it? With destination confirmed, they slowly shuffled out of their
rental car and towards this new house, new challenge, new experience. They were usually
awkward and scared- afraid of the tools, afraid to talk, afraid to look uncool wearing the safety
gear, and especially afraid to really sweat under that hot Louisiana sun.

However, despite that awkward first hour to the first day, the week often took a positive turn.
Volunteers attached themselves to the house, the rebuilding effort, and the entire city in one
short week. They obsessed over the work, putting in all the effort and energy needed to move
the construction process along that week. They were raw, most coming in with few relevant
skills or experiences, but often leaving transformed by the experience.

Unlike the voices of my old humanities students, the voices of these volunteers, both young and
old, were completely present and invested in the process. They were making, doing, and
building. Most importantly, their work and
experience tied them directly, even if only
temporarily, both to the surrounding
community and to each other. That effort gave
them not just a sense of accomplishment or
purpose, but it gave them a place and, for that
week, another home. Although some of these
people might never pick up a hammer again,
the continuation of their construction skills
was not the point. Instead, during their week
in New Orleans, they discovered a personal
passion for community building and a new
understanding for the many authentic
connections that the work provides.

At the end of every week, we would gather around to talk about our collective experience.
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During this discussion, I always presented the volunteers with two next steps to take after they
left New Orleans. I first asked every volunteer to spread the word about their experience to keep
the rebuilding effort alive and to remind folks back in their hometown that there was more work
to do, even six years after the storm.

The second next step, however, always meant the most to me, although it had nothing to do
with the city or work I had grown so attached to. I told the volunteers to recognize their own
potential for good work and to realize the need for this same work wherever they came from.
You do not need to fly down to New Orleans to help rebuild or to do good or find
community. The opportunities to build, make, and do exist in every corner of the world. I
challenged them to think about their
own corner, and to actively question
what house it needed built.

In doing so, they would not only
continue to exercise that positive power
realized in NOLA, but they would
become the leaders that every
community, regardless of geographical
location or socio-economic status,
needs.

I left New Orleans with my own
message ringing in my head. After two
years of rebuilding, I began to think
about my old students and school
community. How did my old students and former colleagues connect to the people and places
around them? Where was our sense of community? Where was our passion to be an active part
of it? What did we do to develop that passion and to realize its potential? These questions made
me reimagine the theoretical house that I wanted to build. My former school did not need to be
remodeled with fresh paint or a new roof, but instead, it needed a deeper sense of communal
identity.

With those questions, I came to High Tech High. I wanted learn how to push those experiences
beyond the construction site and into the community. I wanted to learn the structures behind
project based learning so that I could run off with them and ignite them under a fresh batch of
students and volunteers. At HTH, teachers and students were engaging in big and creative
projects that provided a sense of autonomy and purpose I had never experienced at my old
school. From documentary films to an energy efficient tiny house to roller coasters inspired by
To Kill A Mockingbird, the teachers at HTH broke through the tired routines that once limited
my own classroom. They facilitated a creative process that empowered students to pour out
their own passions and then exhibit those products to the public.

And yet, as much as we preach and practice the art of doing, all schools, even HTH, struggle to
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connect learning experiences to the surrounding community. The student work at HTH is
beautiful and our school hallways serve as museums that exhibit both the collective imagination
of HTH students and the power of the HTH model. However, that power sometimes rests behind
closed doors. If that power could be utilized by both youth and adults to meaningful engage
each other then that potential for a stronger community is that much more possible.

I wanted to use this year and residency as my first step in designing authentic opportunities for
both adults and youth to positively interact outside of classroom walls, where they can engage
with each other in a more reciprocal way. I wanted to experiment with different ideas on how to
deliberately recreate that sense of community not only found on my old construction sites, but
also successful classrooms here at HTH. I wanted to examine the social ties and capital that
connect not just students at school, but also members of the larger community. How can we
strengthen our existing personal ties, but also bridge them across those entrenched lines of
neighborhood, age, ethnicity? How can we introduce new people to each other and creatively
develop meaningful relationships within our community? How can we create spaces for people
of all ages to build more valuable social relationships by sharing their experiences and stories?

I wanted to learn from the HTH model, but at the same time, create my own community program
that addressed these questions. I wondered, what happens when we create events where
youth and adults have opportunities to connect in meaningful ways, share passions and
learn from each other?