Obviously, school is intended to prepare students for life. But what do we mean by that? On the one hand, we mean that it provides students with the necessary skills to gain a career after graduation and become productive members of society. On the other hand, the teachers most of us remember long after our own schooling are those who encouraged our individuality. Humans are, of course, social animals. We have come to dominate this planet by banding together. In many ways, our societies themselves can be viewed as living organisms.

Last week, I spoke for career day at my son’s intermediate school, telling about the life of a working writer. About fifty kids from the school had signed up to hear me. They were so bright, so attentive, their eyes wide, their brains bubbling. I told them that to succeed, a writer needs three things: Passion—the love of writing and the burning desire to say something Precision—the love of language and the care to get it right Paycheck—the steady money that comes from some other job I told them that writing was the easiest profession to start. To be a writer, all you had to do was write.

I have a confession to make. The main reason I’m by nature a poet rather than a fiction writer is that I just can’t stand the day-in/day-out slog at one long project. My moods swing too often from self-confidence-bordering-on-foolhardiness to despair-at-ever-amounting-to-anything. On good days, I feel a genius in my words; on bad days, it’s all just so much dust. Undoubtedly I take myself too seriously, but on the other hand, Zen placidity produces little art, and certainly none of any length.

Isn’t it ironic that we ask students to develop argumentative essays, problem-solution essays, and literary analyses because we believe they promote higher levels of thinking? When, in fact, by making these assignments, we may be doing just the opposite. Aren’t argumentative essays, in essence, exercises in following a formula—making a claim, backing it up, countering the opposition, and so on? Of course, there is thinking going on during the writing, but not the kind that is truly mind expanding.

Recently I met a young man who worked his way through college by cranking out research papers for an online term-paper store. The company sells “model” research papers, many made to order, so my young acquaintance might find himself writing about quantum mechanics one week and Stalin’s concentration camps the next. The job gave him lots of practice writing on short deadlines. He also picked up quite a bit of knowledge in many different fields.

When I was a college freshman, grammar was about as important to me as celebrity gossip. Sure, I glanced at the US Weekly headlines in the grocery checkout, and I performed the standard spell checks on my composition papers, but Brangelina? Subject-verb agreement? Who really cared? Then I joined the staff of our campus newspaper, and my attitude towards grammar changed.

The closest I came to a life-changing teacher is someone I knew only through his writing. The name of this teacher is Ken Macrorie, and his books Uptaught, Writing to be Read, Telling Writing, and The I-Search Paper are some of my favorites. What he says in these texts has changed the way I think about writing and learning.

Inquiry is based on questions, but not all questions are created equally. Big questions open up big spaces for information, while little questions open up little spaces. The size of the answer is predicted by the size of the question. Suppose that a bug specialist (an entomologist) comes to speak in your Life Science class. After giving a presentation, the entomologist opens the floor for questions.

If you or your students are new to inquiry and project-based learning—or if you just need some popular-culture inspiration for your program—you should check out the following hit TV shows.

Wil Tilroe-Otte /Shutterstock.com These days, people talk about xenophobia—the fear of strangers. In the ancient world, though, people had xenophilia—the love of strangers. Locals were expected to welcome travelers into their homes and offer them food and entertainment. After all, strangers brought news from far-off places, gifts of precious spices, music, art, and ideas. Five Strangers in the Classroom As we strive to create student-centered classrooms, we need to invite certain strangers into our midst.