Arne Duncan sets up an elevator for me. We cram as many students into our mechanical box in a systematic Race to the Top.  I'm relegated to a button pusher. At one time an elevator man had a place. He was an expert trained, not just in elevators, but in the art of conversation.  Not in the twenty-first century.  After all, technology is the teacher.  He's simply a facilitator. Let the system do its work.  In the background, we might get a bland jazz tune created for the sole purpose of not offending anyone.  Each person follows the elevator etiquette of respectful silence and individualism.  It's tidy and efficient, a well-oiled machine, totally predictable. The real test is whether they quickly get from floor to floor.

So, I saw this video by The Frames where they sing "Star Star" on an elevator.  It's the last thing I would ever call elevator music.  The moment is creative, quirky and a bit out of place.  Within this metal box, they are playing an acoustic set and it's beautiful.  True, it's a bit contrived, but it makes me think about my place within the system.

My wife's grandpa asked me why I still stay in education.  "We had silly politics back then, but when I taught, it was clear that it was my classroom.  They weren't trying to make things teacher-proof.  They trusted us.  I don't think I'd last very long in the current system."  Maybe not.  He's a bit loud and provocative and he might piss off a few people, but I'm guessing he could make it just fine. Even the Clipboard Crew gets tired of the typical elevator music.

I have a hunch that he would do exactly what most subversive sages do.  Outside the elevator, he would hold the instruction booklet about pushing buttons and he would talk about the best methods for elevator mechanics and he would listen quietly at the experts who have spent a lifetime on the top floor and know nothing about what it means to be grounded.

Then, when the door is shut and the elevator is working, he would move the kids from silence to dialogue and from isolation to cooperation. He would abandon the elevator etiquette.  He'd sing a tune with them.  Or maybe not.  Maybe he would get them to take the stairs and, though it is slower, it would be healthier and more sustainable in the long run.  And when the fire hits and the unpredictable occurs, his students would make it.  Either way, to the executives at the top, it wouldn't look very different. The results would be similar, but the process would be entirely different.

Call it Meander to the Top. We'll find an indie route to get there.