Just back from the Near East South Asia Council of Overseas Schools (NESA) Head’s Summit, and I have lots to think about in context of my work and beyond. One of the themes of the conference was presented through this question: Is polarity a lens of balance or opposition? 

Polarities are different from problems. Problems have a right, or best answer; a solution exists. On the other hand, a polarity—also described as a paradox, conundrum, or contradiction—is a dilemma that is ongoing, unsolvable, and contains seemingly opposing ideas. In the area of US politics, a number of polarities have come into stark view, most of them connected to States’ rights vs. Federal control. There are, of course, similar polarities in politics across the globe. Further, some examples of non-political polarities are short term versus long term, change versus stability, and autonomy versus alignment.

Polarities also exist in schools. For example, schools usually want to provide rigorous courses allowing top students to compete for spots at highly selective colleges and universities while at the same time ensuring the emotional wellbeing of its students. Schools might want to offer competitive athletic programs allowing athletes to measure themselves against the best competition while at the same time having a program for students who want to play and be physically active. Given the limits of time, space, and resources, choices have to be made. There is no ideal or right answer. The polarity must be managed. 

Having recently heard CNN Van Jones talk about socio-economic-political polarities in the US, and having dabbled in his book, Beyond the Messy Truth: How We Came Apart, How We Come Together, I feel compelled to think about polarity as a lens of balance. I interpret one of Jones’s important points framed up as this: We can have ninety-nine differences and one commonality—this could be in any realm—and that to get beyond the messy truth, we need to build upon the commonality. At AES, we all want what’s best for kids and we all love our community. Those commonalities can be built upon even as we might disagree about aspects of our program. 

Another take-away is that perhaps polarities can help us see that one pole cannot exist without the other, and therefore, understand the importance of balancing on commonalities as well as using the tension of our differences to find more middle ground. I heard Mr. Jones say something to the effect of “a bird cannot fly with just one wing; it needs both wings to fly.” The trick, I think, is to manage the upside of both poles while minimizing the downside of both poles. For example, the upside of a highly rigorous academic program might be the advantageous positioning of students in the college admission process, while the downside might be student stress and anxiety. Looked at through a lens of balance, maybe schools can find ways to have high expectations and standards while establishing systems, structures, and support that minimize student stress and anxiety. Similarly, schools need to find ways to support parents seeking highly competitive experiences in athletics for their children while at the same time providing a well-rounded and physical experience for everyone. Further schools will always need to seek to balance in improving upon its programs while at the same time coming up with creative solutions to constraints of time, space, and resources. 

The Federal government cannot be both strong and weak. Academic and athletic programs can’t be both specialized and broad. And there is no right answer. Similarly, one can’t exist without the other. Strong students can’t succeed without also having a sense of well-being and strong athletes can’t find their passions without trying many sports. Polarities looked at through a lens of balance instead of opposition can lead to compromise and can co-exist towards a common end. Birds can only fly with both of their wings.

At AES, through compromise, we will continue to endeavor to manage the upside of our polarity issues while minimizing the downside of them.