For over forty years, Sesame Workshop has had a singular mission: to empower the lives of children through media. But media changes, and the needs of children change as well. We know that the world is evolving, and that what benefits children today may not affect the children of tomorrow. At the Workshop, we claim that every season of Sesame Street is an experiment; the truth of this assertion, I believe, is borne out in our history.
 
As a research-based organization (we have always had a team of full-time educational researchers on staff), we are continuously refining our content to ensure that we are having the desired educational effect. We also investigate the issues of the day, to figure out where we—Elmo and Big Bird, Grover and Rosita—can make a difference in the lives of children. And while most people know of us for our work on literacy and numeracy, Sesame Workshop tackles topics affecting the whole child—a wide array of issues that families across America and around the world face.
 
In recent years, Sesame Workshop has worked to educate caregivers and children on issues ranging from asthma to disaster preparedness. We have helped parents and caregivers talk with their children about difficult topics, such as the grieving process. Internationally, there are scores of localized Sesame Street productions reaching children on all six inhabited continents, addressing issues such as HIV, malaria prevention, female empowerment, and of course, the ABCs—or, rather, their equivalent in dozens of languages.

Recently, we entered a new area: childhood hunger.
 
Hunger is an issue that is often times ignored. Some who suffer are held back by shame from getting help. Others simply do not know whom to ask, or where to go, for assistance. And because those at risk do not often vocalize their needs to others, hunger can be an invisible problem, even in your community.
 
With roughly 20 percent of American children—one in five!—not having enough to eat, the problem is truly widespread. Factor in the scores of other children not eating properly, and American hunger is a true epidemic and growing.
 
We here at Sesame Workshop have a unique opportunity. Through our Sesame Street Muppets, we are able to reach and engage with a wide audience—one of all ages. We can raise awareness for this vital children’s health issue by weaving the magic of Elmo, Grover, and their friends with the true-to-life stories of children and families who are battling every day to cope with the economic uncertainties that have wreaked havoc with their finances and dinner tables. We can make a difference.
 
And unlike the Sesame Street of yesteryear, when we were just a television program, today’s approach is multifaceted, as we adapt to the innovations in media that are the hallmark of our times. Through our Healthy Habits for Life initiatives, we have created content, kits, and tools that help grownups address hunger, exercise, and related topics with the children in their lives. And in October, we introduced our newest Sesame Street Muppet, Lily, on a television special titled Growing Hope Against Hunger. 
 
Growing Hope Against Hunger focused on the lives of children battling hunger. Lily, a new friend to Elmo and the gang, is going through the same trials and tribulations that many American children and their families are: more mouths to feed than food to go around. By sharing her story, Lily showed that there is not only no shame in being hungry, but that our communities can and often will come together to keep our neighbors and friends healthy, happy, and on the course toward better things. We mixed in real-life stories from families nationwide—true stories of hunger, perseverance, and hope—in an effort to remove the stigma of hunger in America.
 
But hunger—and for that matter, a child’s ongoing development more generally—require more than a prime-time television special. So, we do more. Through our partners and advisors, we distribute thousands of free outreach kits (in both English and Spanish) containing this content to children in need. Further, we make all of our outreach content available online, for free, on SesameStreet.org. And of course, there is still the Sesame Street you know and love, echoing these same themes every morning on your television.
 
As children move toward other forms of media, we will be there, too. We have an award-winning children’s website, smartphone apps, podcasts, educational video games, and more, all of which are focused on the same goal as the television show. As we all know, wherever there is a screen, there is a child. And if Sesame Workshop can reach that child, we can empower that child’s life.

I was very fortunate to be able to spend time with Yacoobi last month at the Opportunity Collaboration, a convening on global poverty alleviation held in Mexico. She caught me up on the current situation in Afghanistan and her work at the Afghan Institute of Learning (AIL). Yacoobi founded AIL in 1995 to provide teacher training to Afghan women, support education for boys and girls, and offer health education to women and children. About 200,000 students graduate every year from AIL’s programs, and Yacoobi estimates AIL has impacted 8.5 million Afghans. Yacoobi is the recipient of dozens of humanitarian, social entrepreneurship, and leadership awards for her incredible work over the last two decades.

The day Yacoobi and I met, it was a humid 90 degrees, but Yacoobi was wearing a hijab and a long, beautifully embroidered dark Afghan dress. She lit up with passion when talking about the progress being made and the hope of rebuilding Afghanistan. In every word she spoke, she was tireless and unwavering in her commitment to the people of Afghanistan. But at the same time, she seemed weary. She travels the world about 40 percent of her time, stop after stop, building support for AIL and change in Afghanistan. At home in Afghanistan, she works every day to make life better while surrounded by violence and uncertainty. Rebuilding Afghanistan is her life’s pursuit.

Yacoobi focused in on the improvements she’s seen over the last two years, her workshops for youth to engage them in civil society, and renewing her people’s connection to the earth.

“Women’s lives are changing rapidly for the good,” she said. “It’s changed 180 degrees. Women are going into professions of all kinds. But the women of Afghanistan still need the international community to back them up. It takes awhile—Afghanistan has been at war 30 years. Everything cannot be changed right away.”

“Afghanistan is doing better, the villages are cleaner, people are healthier, and people know more about hygiene and reproductive health. Now we need infrastructure support, and we need to develop our civil society.” On the other hand, she added, “security is worse this year than last year. I have to just ignore the whole thing as otherwise I couldn’t function.”

Yacoobi has been holding workshops on democracy, leadership, and peace, getting youth involved in civil society. “A highlight of my life is my emerging youth group,” Yacoobi told me. She recently took 25 students, ages 18-25, to a peace conference in India. Now the group meets once a month for discussions. Each student was asked to bring two others, and the group has swelled to over 200.

Yacoobi also spoke about wanting to work with young people to bring back the connection between the Afghan people and nature. “I feel strongly that we are living too separate from nature; we are disconnected from the soil.” Yacoobi said. “The soil has been so abused, by landmines, suicide bombers, and many things. The dirt is dead.” She cited the important teaching of 13th century poet Rumi, who wrote of this connection and the importance of “love, tolerance, wisdom, respect, and forgiveness.”

Yacoobi is tired of concentrating on the negative. “I love Afghanistan. I love the women and children of Afghanistan. I work with civil society, and I am not interested in politics. Afghanistan is still insecure; we still have war. But the best thing for me is to concentrate and continue with what I am doing.”

But how can higher education institutions raise desperately needed funds in this economic environment, especially when they’re competing with 1.6 million (and growing) US nonprofits vying for the same funds?

Education affects health, employment rates, civic participation, and self-esteem, but it takes money. Everyone supports more money for education, right? But, the truth is that most of us do not donate to our alma maters. Are we hypocrites? Distracted? Recovering from the recession? Converge Consulting conducted a national study of 2050 alumni to explore attitudes, motivations, and behavior associated with giving. The respondents were highly representative of the study population and statistically aligned with US census data in terms of gender (56 percent female), degree attainment (70 percent held an undergraduate degree), institutional type attended (65 percent public), marital status (59 percent married), employment status (50 percent full-time), ethnicity (87 percent white/Caucasian), mean household income ($74,285), and religious orientation (67 percent Christian). The guiding questions were:

• What motivates people to give?
• What differentiates those who give from those who do not?
• Where and how should higher education fundraising professionals expend limited resources to maximize efforts?

The study utilized six measures to segment alumni, examining how they felt about:

• The nature of their relationships with their institutions
• Their professional opportunities upon graduation
• Professional benefits resulting from institutional affiliation
• The importance of financially supporting their institutions
• Donating to charities
• Their lives since graduating (satisfaction)

These measures determined three donor types:

• Champions
• Friends
• Acquaintances

The following graphic depicts significant differences among the three groups in terms of attitudes, motivations, and behaviors associated with giving:

In terms of total donations to institutions within the last twelve months, the percentage of people across segments who have ever donated, and average donation size, this graphic indicates that institutions are simply not getting much support from alumni.

Fortunately, services derived from the findings enable fundraisers to administer a seven-question survey that will classify alumni into the three donor types, determine their preferred communication channels, and identify the organizations that they support. Thus, fundraising professionals can identify Acquaintances, who will likely never give, and reallocate those resources to Champions and Friends. Moreover, they can identify Champions and Friends who don’t give (or who give to other organizations), and reach out to them via their preferred channels, and with messages that are more likely to resonate and evoke response. Effective implementation of such practices could increase overall philanthropic support of our colleges and universities—institutions that need all of the help they can get.

But what if we went beyond this? What if we taught the key mindsets and skill sets that help make successful social entrepreneurs?

For the past six years, the Transformative Action Institute (TAI) has been promoting a curriculum that teaches these skills. From in-depth studies of social innovators, we have identified seven important competencies that are essential for success:

1. Leadership. These people take initiative and action to solve problems (rather than complaining about what’s wrong).

2. Optimism. These people are confident that they can achieve a bold vision, even when many other people doubt them. They have a strong sense of self-efficacy and a belief that they have control to change their circumstances.

3. Grit. This is a combination of perseverance, passion, and hard work—the relentless drive to achieve goals, complete commitment to achieving their task.

4. Resilience in the face of adversities, obstacles, challenges, and failures. When things fall apart, these people rise to the occasion. They thrive in the most ferocious storms. They see failures as valuable feedback.

5. Creativity and innovation. These people see new possibilities and think in unconventional ways. They see connections and patterns where few other people would imagine.

6. Empathy. These people are able to put themselves in the shoes of others, and imagine perspectives other than their own; this is one of the most valuable qualities for understanding the needs of others whom they serve.

7. Emotional and social intelligence. These people are excellent at connecting with others and building strong relationships.

The important thing to note here is that each one of these qualities is something that people can develop with practice. There is a tremendous amount of scientific evidence that people can grow in each of these capacities. They can see statistically significant progress.

For a long time, people thought that these traits were fixed. You either had them or you didn’t. There were some people who were born creative, and others who would never have an ounce of creative inspiration. There were some people who were naturally optimistic, and others who just were naturally pessimistic. People couldn’t change.

But now we know that people can develop these competencies. Just in the same way that college students can learn a foreign language at age 20, so too can they learn the key skills for being great social innovators—becoming proficient, or even “fluent,” in these core competencies.

First piloted at UCLA in 2005, this course has now been taught at more than 30 universities across the world including Yale, Princeton, Cornell, NYU, Johns Hopkins, and UC Berkeley. Both Echoing Green and Ashoka U have recognized the organization as an innovator in social entrepreneurship education. In surveys, more than 90 percent of students said this class changed their lives.

However, the financial downturn has made it more difficult to innovate on campus. Faculty and administrators face an uphill battle because of budget woes. How can you offer new course ideas when universities are cutting deep into traditional course offerings, and hiring fewer and fewer faculty? TAI’s module for social entrepreneurship is adaptable and cost-effective for universities because practicing social entrepreneurs from the local community can be brought in to teach as adjuncts. The TAI curriculum gives instructors a teaching manual to draw from, cutting down their course preparation time, while students benefit from an exchange with real-life social entrepreneurs who can share their experiences.

For instructors who have adapted TAI’s curriculum, one of the keys to its success is its flexibility. This is not an all-or-nothing approach. Great success has come from incorporating a small section into an existing course, circumventing the need for new course approval, which can be a lengthy and involved process. Grace Davie, professor at Queen’s College, CUNY, adapted elements of the curriculum into her existing African history course. Davie casts figures in African history as social entrepreneurs: visionaries and innovators who have fought for change in their societies. She uses the concept of social entrepreneurship and a portfolio assignment from the curriculum to help each student identify the changes they want to make in the world.

Let me finish by talking about this portfolio assignment, because it’s one of the keys to the success of this course. College students often have passion and energy and a desire to make a difference, but they frequently have no idea what they want to choose as a major, let alone what “big, hairy, audacious goals” they have for changing the world. We have students spend at least five weeks engaging in a rigorous assessment of their talents, strengths, skills, passions, and personal histories. Many students have reported that this was the most meaningful assignment they have ever had at any educational level. It helps them figure out what they want to do with their lives.

Our goal now is to help spread this curriculum to more than 200 colleges and universities across the world: to help train the next generation of social entrepreneurs, innovators, and problem solvers for the 21st century.

With these challenges in mind, SSE has been designed as an innovative course that brings teams of students together with experienced student advisors on projects for system-changing organizations. Each team commits to working approximately 40-hours per week, the equivalent of a full time intern. The class takes place in the Fall and Winter semesters when organizations are usually short on internship help. Instead of the students seeking internship opportunities to complement and enhance their college education on their own, the SSE approach builds a course around the internship experience, emphasizing the academic merit of hands-on learning—the type of experience most valued by future employers. Students compete for the opportunity to take the SSE course with the promise of collaborating with peers on projects based on real world relevance and critical organizational needs.

Each SSE class includes up to twelve prominent social entrepreneurship organizations that recognize the benefits of training and identifying future talent while they are still in college and further developing the human capital pipeline for the sector. Each organization benefits from a higher-quality deliverable due to the collaborative nature of the projects. After two years in operation, successful SSE work examples are numerous and include projects such as creating Dowser articles/profiles and working on Acumen Fund’s Blue Sweater college outreach.

The SSE course parallels other on-campus internship opportunities at BYU’s Marriott School where students intern primarily for corporations. Students showed interest in having the same opportunity in social entrepreneurship. The SSE Internship class follows a conventional internship model with the partner organization drawing from its own work and administrative tasks to create the student project. The dynamic project forges a direct link between the academic and social entrepreneurship communities and provides an exceptional opportunity for students to help make a difference in the world.

SSE developed and grew as a resource created primarily by students and for students. Although Curtis and Misty Lefrandt have since graduated, they did much of the initial legwork to recruit on-campus internship partner organizations. Their personal story helped to convince early adopters of the significant benefit to both students and social entrepreneurship organizations. As the faculty instructor of the course, the biggest challenge has been coordinating ever-increasing engagement points with partners of our Peery Social Entrepreneurship Program in ways that continue to benefit everyone involved. Misty has now returned to contribute as the SSE Partner Relations Manager. Curtis is also managing a team of student interns this semester from his position at Innosight, a leading consultancy for innovation.

Students have served as key allies to build this new program and to develop even more partnerships for BYU’s Ballard Center. We continue to integrate student perspectives and leadership in other initiatives at our flagship Peery Program. With their energy and enthusiasm, we’ve learned that students can play a crucial role in making institutional innovation a reality.

Note: This project was a 2011 Ashoka U Innovation Award winner. You can submit new innovation entries for the 2012 competition now.

Thus, funding for public education is vulnerable right now—and the institution itself needs defenders. As one pushing for innovation in education, I have come under fire by skeptics who think that by calling for innovation, I intend for the system’s gradual spinoff out of the public sphere. True, I hope for a transformation of public education, but my desire is only for its improvement, not its demise.

Why is public education in America important? Here are five key reasons:

1. Public education is a vital complement to America’s constitutional republic. From the start, the founding fathers considered public education as essential to upholding the liberties of the new democracy and instilling the public virtues requisite for civil society. George Washington called upon schools to teach citizens “to value their own rights” and “to discriminate the spirit of liberty from that of licentiousness…with an inviolable respect to the laws.” Thomas Jefferson, Ben Franklin, and others were staunch supporters of public schooling. (See chapter one of Richard Rothstein’s Grading Education: Getting Accountability Right). The public has an interest in subsidizing the literacy and socialization of its people.

2. Public education allows society to shape the next generation. A private education system does not allow for the crucial debates about what citizens need to know to advance the common good. Former Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O’Connor believes children need more knowledge of civics. Others want environmental education. Voters in California are collecting signatures for a ballot referendum to overturn a first-in-the-nation law that requires public schools to teach the contributions of gays and lesbians in social studies lessons. Public schooling gives citizens the opportunity to engage in the difficult, but crucial, exercise of determining what taxpayer-funded education should include.

3. Public education gives shelter to kids. Last year one of the girls in my town lived in a homeless shelter with her mother and brother. Her mother had left a physically abusive marriage and ended up on the streets. Every morning she arrived at school visibly upset, but as she calmed down and joined the class, she was able to enjoy six hours in a safe room with a hot lunch and steady routine. Children from troubled homes need free and universal school.

4. The Information Age requires highly skilled workers. Michael B. Horn makes the point that when Jefferson originally envisioned public education, he did not anticipate that it would launch all students to college. In 1892, only about 4 percent of high-school-age youth attended secondary school. The factory-based system of the Industrial Age allowed for a siphoning off of students along the way. But today’s economy is more sophisticated, and America’s competitiveness hinges on producing highly skilled workers. A study by Georgetown University found that by 2018, almost two-thirds of all occupations in the United States will require at least a college degree. Public funding for all students is critical to the economy.

5. Public education is amendable. Many indicators point to dysfunction in America’s public-school system. Just as the power of amendment exists to fix dated elements of government design, it can pave the way for innovation in the public schools. Unlike almost all other sectors of the economy, the public-education sector is stuck in the mindset of the late 1800s. The most important thing policymakers can do to update the system is to engage in the difficult debates around what America expects from public education, and then free up funds to flow to whatever providers, classrooms, and technologies deliver those outcomes.

This is the design for modern public education, a system that America cannot do without.

Heather Clayton Staker is a senior research fellow at Innosight Institute, a nonprofit think tank focused on education and innovation. She focuses on the blending of online learning into brick-and-mortar classrooms.

The mission of both of these nonprofits is to raise the most economically deprived families out of poverty within three years, preferably through environmentally sustainable means.

The approach is to provide families with interest-free loans that they repay within five months. Each loan comes with an important support package: a mix of education, advice, and problem-solving tools. Taken together, these efforts produce positive results, and in most cases, go a long way toward ensuring that loans are paid back. Once a loan is repaid, the family is eligible for another. The beauty of this system is that because the loans are short-term, families can start to see the benefits of the program very early on. This is inspiring and keeps the momentum going.

The main strategy is to create alternate sources of income. For example, if the first loan was given to raise chickens, the TC or AD staff might next suggest the family start growing vegetables using a “net house” that reduces the need for expensive chemical fertilizers and pesticides.

The staff also encourages farmers to adopt environmentally friendly practices, such as using biogas digester systems (fueled by animal waste) for cooking instead of chopping down trees for wood. Both TC and AD use a cash reward system as an incentive for this.

To track impact, a notebook is created for each family. It contains their financial information and is used to record loans and repayments. Each year, the family’s income is noted to see whether the support system is helping. If it isn’t, the staff meets to figure out how best to proceed.

These organizations also work very closely with local authorities (they have little choice, given the nature of the political regime). The staff contacts local authorities to determine which families are below the poverty line. 

Since TC and AD’s priority is education, they will first approach families with children who are not attending school. The authorities also provide enforcement when people are slow or delinquent in their loan repayments.

So, could this sort of model be replicated in other countries? Although tailored to the Vietnamese political and social reality, I feel TC and AD’s model of helping people rise out of poverty has some elements that could work elsewhere.

For example, in Nicaragua, where I spent some time in February, there didn’t seem to be any authority aware of the number of people living in poverty; there was no one keeping track of which families were falling through the cracks. It might be possible to go through various records (medical, school) and piece together that information, but because most rural communities in Nicaragua lack access to health services, such records might not exist. How would one systematically determine which families to help first, and who would enforce authority if necessary? Clearly, there is a cultural difference that might prohibit the same model being used here. However, once a culturally appropriate program was in place, it’s certainly possible to track progress in a notebook.

In Indonesia, which I visited as part of my trip to Asia, it seemed like the practice of tracking progress was seldom exercised. Measuring the impact of programs over time was supported more by anecdotal evidence than hard evidence. The same was true in Cambodia, which I also visited during this trip.

However, the notebook method used by TC and AD could be ideal in both of these countries and in others, as it is cheap, easy to use, and keeps all the records in one location. The loan system with extra support could work too.

These days, more donors and granting institutions want to know the impact of their donations. They often ask those they fund to measure and report results. There are many organizations in the developing world that don’t have the know-how to track their impact so that they can evaluate whether their goals are worth pursuing or if their method is successful. I believe the model used by Thien Chi and Anh Duong is simple enough to adapt to various situations and to other regions.

Marc Henrich is founder and executive director of Ecodana, a nonprofit that supports green solutions to poverty issues in developing countries. He is also working on a new venture that will market and distribute solar lamps in Central America.

Unsurprisingly, Hess treats the reader to a thought-provoking discussion of the possible ways to regulate quality and raises serious issues that beg the question of whether our political system will be able to strike the right balance and use online learning to transform the nation’s education system into a student-centric one of high quality. Hess treats seriously the different tradeoffs and recognizes their imperfections. In particular, for those who are not well versed in this topic, Hess grounds the conversation in the possibilities of where technology will go in the future and in a history of regulation, distance learning, and technology that is useful to understand and heed.

The piece, in classic Hess fashion, has some delightful nuggets, including: “While today’s skeptics fret about online instruction, it was once books and the printing press that were feared by educators, who agonized that students would learn the wrong things if left to read on their own. In the seventeenth century, Sir Robert L’Estrange (once a member of the English Parliament and translator of Aesop’s fables) wondered ‘whether more mischief than advantages were not occasion’d to the Christian world by the invention of typography.’ Newness and unfamiliarity create a high bar to clear when assuring parents and the public that technology-infused learning (whether it involves books or iPads) is not a ‘risky’ departure from what they have known.”

Of course, despite the “nattering nabobs of negativism,” the new technology did spark change, although not always in the ways that people expected.

As Hess contemplates how we might shape this latest technology, he suggests three framing mechanisms by which one can judge quality: input regulation, outcome-based accountability, and market-based quality control. Readers of our own work will note the overlap with my recent piece with Innosight Institute Research Fellow Katherine Mackey, “Moving from inputs to outputs to outcomes: The future of education policy,” but Hess treats the reader to a more academic consideration of the benefits and shortfalls of each approach—and ultimately concludes that a balanced one that takes into account the good of each will be the best way forward.

One thing that emerges from this work is that, in places where there is not widespread agreement about what those outcomes should be or how to measure them, input-based regulation will still have a role to play. As such, Hess has (perhaps unknowingly) refined my past encouragement to move beyond input regulations. Although this may still be sound advice, perhaps it’s not that all input-based regulations are “bad,” given where we are today, but instead that many of the familiar and conventional ones—seat time, for example—that we have historically used to govern our system are truly outdated and limiting in a world powered by digital learning.

There will also be questions with Hess’s piece, of course.

Hess explains in detail the challenge with today’s accountability mechanisms in a world of digital learning, when schooling becomes unbundled such that children will be served by providers from almost anywhere in new and customized ways. The permutations and computations appear mind-boggling.

And yet, perhaps this complicates the picture too much. If we really, truly held schools accountable for results in exchange for public dollars and gave them significant freedom around their inputs, one wonders if they wouldn’t have the incentive to reach out for different solutions and providers to educate the children they serve. And wouldn’t they, in turn, have all the incentive to monitor and reward those providers that were successful in a way that was more fluid—changing with advances in technologies and measurement techniques—than a complicated government accountability system would be? Merit badges and other systems that Hess discusses to create a competency-based system centered around outcomes might be more successful in this scenario (although I still contend that these are more likely to gain adoption first in the realm of post-secondary and informal education, as they align with the various real needs of one of the end consumers of the nation’s education system—employers).

Or has the experience with supplemental education service (SES) providers from No Child Left Behind taught us that although in theory this might be true, realistically we won’t get to that ideal accountability framework any time soon, which means that schools won’t follow the above behavior? If so, we will have to force public dollars to follow students down to any course or module level—and figure out a way to make these different providers accountable, as it probably would be easier to put a true outcomes-based framework on these emergent and still-pliable disruptive innovations than to impose them on the rigid old system.

And here, Hess could have done a better job of grounding his discussion in the reality of how the country regulates this emerging disruption today. Unfortunately his analysis largely ignores this, but it would help the reader understand even better the promises and perils of each approach, as well as what is and what is not realistic. Without a discussion of Texas’s decision to regulate digital learning based on inputs—including the logjam and administrative burden it has created in approving providers and online courses for the Texas Virtual School Network—or a profile of successful regulation by the Florida Virtual School based on its outputs for nearly a decade, the paper misses a bigger opportunity to break new ground based on where we have been.

Furthermore, there is a legitimate question around whether Hess’s delineation between an outcomes-based system on the one hand and a market-based system on the other—while steeped in the usual rhetoric reformers use—would be better framed as an outcomes-based system versus a student and parent choice system. The reason is that an outcomes-based system would in fact also create a robust market for different products and services along the criteria that the true customer—the public and the government, which is after all the payer—said was important. Even today, public education exists within market mechanisms—they just happen to be stilted and tired input-based ones. A student and parent choice system is also a market-based one, but here, as Hess points out, the criteria—or the “job to be done” that students and parents have—might not quite match up to what the public customer thinks it should be, and there are both advantages and disadvantages to that. What became clear to me through reading this is that while inputs create homogenization in the process and the “how,” outcomes create another kind of homogenization—of the “what”—even as they are quite liberating on the “how.” A market-based system where students and parents act as true consumers, however, protects against both potentially—an interesting advantage if we consider with some humility that we may not always know which outcomes are and which are not important in preparing students to lead productive and fruitful lives.

More likely though—and semantics aside—as Hess points out, the right answer is likely in a combination of all of these approaches, and his ultimate proposal is a thoughtful one for how to navigate the future of digital learning, while being honest about the public policy questions that surround how to get there and how to continually strike the right balance.

This should not come at a surprise, but when it comes to identifying the solution, the jury is still out.

One of the pitfalls in education reform to date is the belief in a one-size-fits-all solution, which has been proven untrue time and again. This is no less true in India, where I write from today. The country’s urban capitals prescribe education policy on the whole, while the majority of citizens (70 percent, or approximately 830 million) reside in rural areas. Student persistence is low (only one-third complete high school) and workforce preparedness is inadequate (24 million unemployed).

The million-dollar question is how do we make education engaging and relevant at scale—a colossal challenge with the realities of poverty, politics, illiteracy, teacher absenteeism, gender inequality, and undeveloped infrastructure that results in frequent power outages and flooded roads during monsoons.

This past week, I was on my third school visit with Lend-A-Hand India (LAHI), a social enterprise committed to transforming rural education (in its first 5 years it has partnered with 60-plus schools across 3 states; more here). While this trip focused on installing corporate-donated computers at Mangaon School in rural Maharashtra, I was more interested in observing the implementation of the Introduction to Basic Technology (IBT) program. This program is the foundation of LAHI’s reform strategy, and it’s gaining momentum—the Maharashtra government has acknowledged it as an integral part of rural high school curriculum. This recognition has resulted from LAHI’s efforts to scale the program and advocacy by the IBT’s curriculum innovator, Vigyan Ashram.

Mangaon School is unique as a purely ashram school serving tribal, nomadic communities of rural Maharashtra. The 400-plus students’ families income levels are extremely low (on average, between 60-100 rupees, or US $1-2, per day), with access only to seasonal jobs such as sugarcane harvesting or bricklaying. Due to these communities’ transient nature, education typically has not been feasible nor prioritized, regardless of quality. On the contrary, child labor is the norm.

What I saw, heard, and experienced at the Mangaon School was inspiring, even without the added context of the students’ impoverished families and limited futures. Students were constructing greenhouses, wiring solar-powered LED lights, building benches and tables, drawing engineering plans, mass-producing chikki sweets, and tending their worm-fed compost that they package and sell in the village—all as part of the IBT curriculum. And they were into it. While the agriculture instructor looked on, a class of 10th graders worked together to plant crops that help feed fellow students.

The IBT program at Mangaon School (and each IBT partner school) recruits local entrepreneurs to teach the vocational curriculum empowering students to develop new innovations that benefit their local economy. I learned that their solar-powered, rechargeable lights were big sellers at the local market, where villagers typically endure daily power outages.

Headmaster Ankush Kale explained that, prior to IBT program integration into the curriculum, the school ran 1st-7th grade only. At the end of 7th grade, children would return to their families and become laborers—few other options existed, and advanced education was rare, as families were eager to gain another source of income.

When the IBT program came to Mangaon 4 years ago, the school started offering education through 10th grade, with positive results. Two classes, totaling 70 students, have graduated thus far. Of these 70 graduates, 100 percent passed the 10th-grade board examinations, and 97 percent are furthering their education at technical, vocational, or other diploma-granting institutions. This is a great achievement regardless, but taking into account the background of these children, the results are phenomenal. As Mr. Kale explained, “When we find these kids, they don’t even have clothes on their back. Now, they are thinking about starting their own businesses.”

This was not just another attempt at fixing rote learning—it was a well-executed strategy for long-term transformation. These graduates are pioneers of their communities and are motivated and armed to make something out of their lives. Through IBT and the Mangaon School, they have been propelled into the next level of educational and career advancement, and have developed skills along the way that grant them access to employment opportunities they would not have had otherwise. In addition, students have made other softer-but-significant achievements, including finding their voice, gaining confidence, defining their interests, and connecting with other education-bound peers. Before we departed that afternoon, a class of students stood proudly in front of us, exclaiming their future aspirations: “Teacher!” “Nurse!” “Electrician!” “Architect!” These students have built the courage to step out from the cycles of hardship that their ancestors have endured to make a livelihood for themselves, and undoubtedly, their future generations will be transformed because of it.

Despite perennial cocktail flurries for finance jobs, some are daring to consider that capital is not the most important factor of production. Even Adam Smith, the patriarch of capitalism, argued that labor was a most important factor of production, and Robert Solow might point to multifactor productivity, or technology—the “perennial gale of creative destruction,” as Joseph Schumpeter described it—as having the highest contribution margin on aggregate output. In short, many would agree that it’s all about innovation.

The truth is that many graduate students have begun to question old notions. Sophists will continue to exist, shouting “might is right” from the pages of Tom Wolfe, the broadcasts of CNBC, and the streets of lower Manhattan. But increasingly often, students in traditional MBA programs are raising eyebrows at the realpolitik notion that the strong rule where they can and the weak suffer what they must. Gordon Gekko, after all, didn’t win any Oscars last year. Face it: Double and triple bottom lines have become sexy.

Thomas Hobbes stated that, “clubs are trumps”—today we call it “dog-eat-dog.” But many have begun to reshape the interactions and to broaden the philosophical teachings of business. Top MBA programs are putting emphasis on Social Entrepreneurship programs, or “doing well by doing good.”

At Columbia Business School, for example, scores of students apply for the Nonprofit Board Leadership Program, allowing them to participate in the advisory of local nonprofit organizations and to gain board experience at a young age. The International Development Club and Pangea Advisors sends students around the globe to perform pro bono consulting for nonprofits—these students author publications with United Nations Development Program Millennium Village initiatives and advise “Missing Middle” venture funds in Central America. The school offers numerous courses in social entrepreneurship, and students are encouraged to create businesses that are as ecumenically noteworthy as they are profitable and sustainable. Compassion and profit can stand together.

Political philosopher Montesquieu claimed that “commerce is the cure for the most destructive prejudices,” and that “peace is the natural effect of trade.” Philosophers Immanuel Kant and Adam Smith echoed the basic notion. And while there are certainly asymmetric impacts across industries and demographics that must be remedied through trade adjustment assistance, the benefits of trade are unequivocal. But more open commerce and capital cannot alone promote peace without developing our own human capacity to provide. Human capital development through social entrepreneurship programs is vital, and MBA programs that have begun to offer social enterprise coursework and guidance are beginning to play an important part.

Most MBA students will continue to embody homo economicus, behaving as “rationalized, individualized, and democratized” individuals, as Austrian economist Joseph Schumpeter once said.  Others, however, may begin to look more like Kantians. These Kantian M.B.As may not seek jobs in Kaliningrad, but they will be moralistic, driven not only by rational self-interest, but also by a new homo philanthropos, a desire to have positive impact. Such action need not be purely charitable but can be driven by a passion to pursue the peace that Montesquieu, Smith, and Kant saw as possible only via commerce.

Today’s MBA programs are providing social enterprise opportunities that, while not new, are enabling students to embrace their Kantian ideals while still building upon the claims of Montesquieu. One can treat others as ends rather than means, embrace Schumpeterian “creative destruction,” and build upon the ties of commerce to foster greater peace. Hearts may yet trump clubs, but if it’s going to happen, it’ll have to be through sustainable models building upon commerce.