Have you noticed how many “blueprints” are sprouting out there recently? As soon as I wrote that I realized readers might accuse me of opening like Andy Rooney, but, really, there are a lot of blueprints lately. The president refers to his blueprint for America. There’s a blueprint for improving health care. And the Stern Center and collaborators recently crafted the Vermont Blueprint to Close the Achievement Gap for Vermont learners. The appeal of the metaphor, and it is a metaphor since none includes digital schematics of any kind, seems to be the confidence imbued in the word. Blueprints make dreams and visions practical. Blueprints define and specify what goes where. Blueprints convey a professional language and imagery that confronts “What we want” with “What will it take?”
In the case of the Blueprint to Close the Achievement Gap, the blueprint is based on decades of ever evolving research about the brain, language, learning, and how best to ensure that all learners learn. What we all (a wide range of collaborators across education, business, public policy makers, legislators, the governor) want is a Vermont where all learners achieve, where the present gaps framed by poverty, disability, and learning differences disappear in the wake of effective instruction and intervention. What it will take is sustained focus, intentional momentum, mutual and collective accountability, and financial support for the essential training, tooling, and restructuring needed to do what we know how to do. The trick is to make sure that this Blueprint doesn’t end up simply one of those charming artifacts someone dusts off when exploring the attic of reform. This time, we’ll make sure that doesn’t happen!

When is the last time you moved into a new house, condo or apartment? Even if it was years ago, I bet that question caused some involuntary reflex about the stresses, challenges, and ultimate pleasures that the process brought you. It’s not for nothing that psychologists include moving to a new home on lists of most stressful events. We at the Stern Center have just completed a move to a new building, consolidating from two into one which will save us in operating expenses and bring all local programs and services under one roof. Six years ago Jill and I moved to a new home after 30 years in the first one, so I’m familiar with the dynamics of planning, implementing, celebrating, and boxes, boxes, boxes. This move for the Stern Center was similar in all dimensions. Thanks to excellent leadership for the move, we had a great system of communication, packing, mapping, labeling, and working together to make it all successful. After one full week in our new home, we’re fully engaged, working on small adjustments such as “which way to turn once I step out of my office to visit colleague X?”, or “which still unpacked box contains that set of reports from the archives?” or “where did I put my new scan-card key?” We still have boxes, and I’m still not able to get from room A to room X every time without a sidetrack, but we’re here, and it’s fabulous! The Stern Center for Language and Learning, 183 Talcott Road, Suite 101, Williston, Vermont.